Remembering Amnesia Redone
by Sweetly-Sadistic's-Romanticide
Summary: I went through and added a lot. New Chapter FINALLY! In a small town, Wren finds a strange man washed up on shore. Why can't he remember anything? And why is it more frightening when he can? Can he forget the angel he lost?
1. Chapter 1

The loud, murmuring roar of the ocean couldn't drown out the calls of overhead seagulls, merely accenting them with sadness. The water was as gray as the sky, the turbulent rolls of the waves lighted in green. It was always cool in Brookings, Oregon. It was the middle of the summer and she had to wear a light sweater against the constant mist that permeated the town.

Wren twirled her finger around in the soft sand that she sat on, half hidden by the long, rich grass that hung sleepily on the shore. Behind her she heard the occasional car speed by on the freeway, going to some other important city than the tiny little town she lived in. Green stood out dramatically from the grey as she glanced back at the mountains that towered behind the shoreline, carpeted by evergreens.

Heaving a sigh through her nose, Wren touched the tender piercing on the side of her nostril. She finally managed to get the small stud she had always wanted. Somehow it seemed like such an insignificant accomplishment. The gentle wind that blew in from the sea, bearing the salty vigor, teased her red-brown hair, making wisps dance about and tickle her face.

It was beautiful here today but a heavy weight still sat in her chest like some imp, laughing at her. She honestly didn't know if she was lonely anymore or if she had just gotten used to it. Gone a bit cold, as some have said. And there was no real reason; all bad things were past and gone with the last few years. Life had been good to her actually. School was going well, she finally got her own apartment and was stable with income which was unusual nowadays.

"God, why am I so stupid?" she wondered aloud, looking up at the seagulls and the clouds. She took a cursory glance about to see if anyone would be listening in to her. Sighing, she contemplated why on earth she was even out here and not with friends or even just other people. "It's not like my life is bad or anything but hey, I still can't enjoy it. For some stupid, fucking reason, I have to choose to be miserable instead of being a normal, fucking person. What the hell is wrong with me?"

Her frustrated brown eyes glared at the sky, as if she was demanding some sort of a divine answer. When none came (as expected) she sighed and stood up, brushing sand off her skirt.

"What am I doing? Sitting here grumbling while the best years of my life are just blowing away!" she berated herself, half seriously and in sarcasm. "Why the hell can't I get myself together?"

Folding her arms about her torso self-consciously, Wren wandered down to the edge where the water lolled up the beach. No one else occupied the area considering it was a Wednesday and the middle of the day. Not that anyone ever really bothered coming here unless they were fishing.

Brookings was a retirement home on a large scale. There were barely fifty students attending the community college she was enrolled in. It was annoying, especially since she had grown up with them all and they were more like siblings than friends.

"That's just the problem, isn't it? I can't stop bitching about how I'm stuck here with a good life," she paused as she walked north slowly, eyeing the sand. "And I'm not really doing anything about it, now am I? Not going out anymore, not talking to anyone. Dear God, I am pathetic."

She turned about a large boulder that stuck up out of the rocky outcropping that bordered the shore. Her eyes slid back along it, bored, to land on an object that made her stop, her heart suddenly pounding.

Lying near the outcropping, shadowed by the overhanging grass and half covered in sand, lay a body on its back. Holy shit! Was he dead? Cautiously, Wren approached, trying to decide whether he really was dead or simply a blind sun tanner; the sun never shined here so what the hell was he doing?

It was a man in his mid-thirties in ragged clothing. Torn, waterlogged trousers were accompanied by a soaked, open collar white poet shirt. He wore no shoes or socks and his tousled ashy brown hair was half-dried, curls of it blowing about his shoulders. For a good few moments, she contemplated just leaving him be and walking away. But instead, Wren kneeled down next to him, scooting close enough to examine his face, her mind more curious than worried. Maybe he was just asleep.

One side of his face was quite handsome with a distinguished eyebrow, thoughtfully drawn in some ponderous passion. A light beard dusted his strong chin and along his thick neck, giving him a tired, haggard look. His lips were serious and inviting and his nose was perfect.

But the other side was a bit of a shock to Wren's eyes. There was no eyebrow over the sleeping eye. A ridge of malformed skin danced along his cheekbone. The flesh was slightly pinkish and mottled, seeming infinitely sensitive. The deformation ran beyond his ear to cut into his hairline. The ear didn't seem to have completely disconnected itself from the rest of the head and a lump seemed to grow next to it.

Wren could see that he was breathing faintly but raggedly. Abrasions and cuts ran amuck on his exposed skin, as if he had been drug around in gravel. At first, since she was wary, she poked his side gently then harshly when there wasn't a reaction. Grasping his arm gently she shook it, trying to waken him. There was no response from him.

"Hey, hombre, wake up. You look beat to shit. You ok?"

After another two tries she managed to get him to stir slightly, his lips murmuring foreign words and his eyelids tightening.

Why wasn't he waking up? Did he have a concussion? Oh my god, what if he was dying?! Her heart ricocheted around her ribcage, causing her breath to shorten. What on earth happened to him? Taking out her cell phone, she checked for reception, cursing when there was none. Oh, great, there was almost no power either. Frustrated, Wren eyed the man, pondering options. She could drive out to a phone and call an ambulance, which would take forty-five minutes to get there. Or she could just take him to a hospital and save time, which might be a factor if he was actually dying.

Tucking away the phone she took a deep steadying breath before reaching out and grabbing his wrist. Unable to put her fingers about it fully she tried pulling on him, standing up to see if she could lift him. Gracelessly, her feet slid out from under her and she landed on her ass rather hard. Barely moved him. Damn.

Quickly she went back to her Jeep, starting it up and driving it off the road onto the sandy beach. She'd better not get fucking stuck, she grumbled mutely. Backing up carefully, she checked to make sure she didn't run him over or go too far into the water. Climbing out shakily, she opened the back door, flinging her books and left over Taco Bell wrappings into the back.

For a good few moments, she considered how she was going to go about getting him into the Jeep. He looked a little big. Giving another glance about and discovering that she was still indeed alone with him, she gave up hoping for help.

Tucking her hands under his broad shoulders, Wren struggled to lift him up. Panting from his dead weight, she dragged him inch by inch toward the vehicle falling more than once to her knees or butt under him.

"Dude, you are so much heavier than you look," the girl grunted as she wrestled with the unconscious man. "You know, I didn't believe the whole 'one pound of fat equals three pounds of muscle' deal. I'm a believer now cause there is not much fat on you!"

After about ten minutes of lifting, growling and struggling, the man was finally halfway into the car. The long legs sprawled akimbo out of the vehicle, are feet still in the sand. Huffing a quick breath, the woman gave him one final tug from where she crouched in the backseat. Good thing no one was around to see her underwear with the way she was positioned. His unconscious weight fell on top of her due to inertia and she found herself trapped under him.

"God damn it all!" Wren hissed in mild embarrassment and frustration. Wiggling out from under him, she crawled to the front. Finally she sat in the front seat, gripping the wheel and panting for breath. Wiping her brow, she glanced back at him before grumbling.

"That was a workout. Jesus."

As gently as possible, Wren drove the Jeep back along the shore in the loose sand, getting stuck only once and for a brief moment. The wheels bumped over the sidewalk before the vehicle straightened onto the road.

"Sheesh, a little while I go I was complaining like there was no tomorrow about how fucking boring my life is, now look; I'm driving some half drowned idiot to the hospital," Wren mused, glancing back at him before focusing on the road with a small silly smile. "Pretty hot half drowned idiot."

The hospital was in another town, almost an hour away. There was an urgent care for small emergencies but it was closed at this time of day. Kind of stupid, considering how many dying and or going to be dying seniors there were, she thought. You'd think some smart guy would build a medical center where more people are likely to die. Wren got on the freeway, checking her phone once in a while, the third time discovering it dead.

After about twenty-five minutes of driving, Wren heard a sound from the backseat. Whipping about she spotted the man shifting dazedly, a low moan escaping his lips. Muttering 'oh shit' she pulled over at a camping site entrance, turning off the car and unbuckling. She turned and looked over at him, watching as he slowly wakened.

His long lashes fluttered and his lips tightened before the eyes finally opened. A confused glaze shined over beautiful grey-blue orbs, speckled in shocking green. They dazedly looked about, studying the dirty vinyl roof and the plastic lights before sliding over toward Wren who sat with a soothing look. It didn't help however. The man stared in blatant surprise and suspicion, his hands scrambling his body for some sort of weapon. Wren put out a hand to calm him but he weakly swat at her, his large but tired hands sluggish, missing by a couple inches.

"_Qu'est-ce que tu fais_?" he coughed in French, still trying to ward off her honest attempts at niceties. She frowned and dropped her hand, giving him a confused look. He stared at her, waiting for an answer, breathing harshly.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand you," she replied quietly as he sat up, having to slouch over from his coughs and how big he was in the seat. The top of his head brushed the ceiling, the wisps of ashy brown hair snagging on the cheap carpeting.

"_S'excuser_, where am I?" he asked through wracking coughs, shivering slightly from his damp clothing. Wren started at the wondrous sound of his voice, despite the rough quality. It was husky, deep and musical, penetrating and enticing. The very tune of it was like honeyed chocolate and hot nights. It gave her shivers.

"Uh…uh, Brookings Harbor, Oregon."

"Where?"

"…America?"

"America? How in the hell have I come to America?" he demanded raspy, his wondrous eyes wide in surprise. Wren stared at him as he looked about frantically and with suspicion, eyeing the Jeep like it was the belly of some strange beast.

"What am I sitting in, _mademoiselle_?"

"Um, a car."

"A what?"

"…A car. A Jeep, actually."

"A car…like a carriage?"

She continued to watch him warily. Great, what sort of nut job did she just pick up? A carriage? Shifting in the seat, Wren looked at him fully, studying his odd clothing, the old fashioned tailoring and the length of his hair.

"Dude, where the hell did you come from? Are you hurt?" she asked before gesturing at him briefly.

The man's thick eyebrow rose at her expression in curiosity before a look of horror dawned on him. His broad hand came up to cover the left side of his face, the deformed side, while he patted about the Jeep and himself for something. Curses in foreign languages floated to her ears before he looked up at her in suspicion and anger.

"Where is my mask?!"

"You didn't have a mask with you. I found you on the beach, all washed up and stuff. What happened to you?"

With the hand still in place, the man looked outside, his expression that of confused wondering. Wren waited patiently, a nervous knot growing in her gut. He didn't know? Did he have amnesia? Oh, wonderful, you watch; she'll end up being some suspect in some whacked out case and die. He was probably a serial assassin that was poisoned so he couldn't point out a crime boss and dumped into the ocean. Damn, she really needed to stop watching crap television.

The man gave a heavy sigh of resignation before shaking his head then turning to look at her. He looked weary and tired with shadows under his eyes and a dusting of a beard on his chin.

"As strange _comme vous vous en doutez bien_, I do not know."

"What did you say?"

"Er, I said, 'as strange as you might think, I do not know.'"

"Right. You French?"

He seemed to think for a minute before nodding.

"_Oui_, I believe so. I cannot seem to remember too well."

Wren stifled an internal sigh before giving an understanding nod. She was so tempted to leave him right there. He was apparently not all that sane but it would be inhuman to leave someone like that out in the wilderness with nightfall just a few hours away. Not to mention, he didn't look like he could handle the bears. Did they even have bears in France?

"Okay, alright, I'm going to take you to the hospital and maybe the police-"

"_Non_! Not the police!" he suddenly objected, as if some sort of revelation hit him. Wren eyed him even more warily, hoping he was not an escaped convict from another country. The man softened his eyes and calmed himself.

"No police. I'm not sure why yet but I do not think that going to the authorities would be the wisest decision. _S'il vous plaît_, I am very confused. I have no idea where I am or even if this is still 1876."

That blew it. Wren suspicions boiled over and she was getting the fuck out of there. There was absolutely no way she was staying in that vehicle with this freaking psycho. She kept her cool as her hand slid down to the handle, keeping her gaze on him.

"1876, huh? That's really…well, um, I hate to tell you this but…uh…you're fucking crazy!" she hollered, wrenching the door open to bolt out, leaving him behind stunned.

Sprinting across the deserted road, Wren reached the side nearest to the mountains, stumbling in her heels on the gravel. Going down the steep drainage dip then back up, she continued to run, hearing the man calling from behind her.

With a violent tumble she bit the dirt, scraping her knees. She glanced back once and screamed in surprise to find him running after her, yelling pleas for her to remain calm and explain.

"Fuck you, you psycho! Get away from me!" she spat, dodging around a tree. Unfortunately for her the man was faster than she was despite his state. The man grabbed her waist in one hand and captured her flailing hands in the other, stilling her as he whispered soothing words. Pulling her tightly against him so she could not escape, he stood a full foot taller than her. Wren whimpered and grunted as she tried to wrench away and get to safety. "Let me go! You're fucking crazy!"

"Why? _S'il vous plaît_, I do not understand. _S'apaiser_!"

His words didn't have the affect he was looking for. His murmured pleas only frightened her more, considering they were partially French. Her war was one already lost however. He was too strong. Wren finally gave up struggling, glaring at him with slight frightened tears, looking up at his tall height.

"Don't even try raping me, buddy. I bite really, really hard," she threatened pathetically. The man sighed, relieved that she had calmed enough to stop fighting to talk.

"I have no intentions of doing so. I am going to let you go in a moment but first, tell me, what year is this?" he asked honestly, keeping a steady gaze upon her. Wren eyed him in paranoid suspicion before easing into amazement. From what she could tell, he truly had no idea. There were no lies hiding in his expression.

"You really don't know what year it is, do you? Its 2006."

As soon as the words slipped her lips, the man's visage drooped into one of utter surprise and horror. He slowly let go of her, backing up, covering his face with a hand, as if the sun was suddenly blinding him from behind the canopy of pine trees and clouds. Wren watched as he backed into the thick trunk of a tree, slumping against it to fall and sit on the ground. She contemplated running again but the sight of him looking so lost, confused and scared made her stop.

What if he really was from 1876? It would account for his language and apparel but it just seemed so out of reality. There was no mistaking how terrified and lost he was at that moment though. He seemed very convinced that he had indeed traveled across time and continents with no memory of how or why.

Quietly, she came over and kneeled next to him, fiddling with her hands in her lap, trying to think of something to say. She opened her mouth but stopped when he looked up at her with weary pleading in his grey-blue eyes.

"Tell me that you are lying."

She mutely shook her head, feeling her heart sicken when he lowered his deformed face to hide in his large hands. After chewing on her lip for a moment, Wren timidly reached out and put a light hand on his broad shoulder. The muscles bunched under her palm and she pulled away. The man looked up at her miserably. She tried to smile a little and ease some of his confusion.

She was going to hate herself for this later but she had to ask.

"You wanna come to my place until we can figure this all out? Unless you've got somewhere else to go."

With a dejected shake of the head the man stood and fixed his composure.

"_Non_, I do not. But I cannot intrude upon you, a complete stranger. _Autant que tu saches_, I could be a murderer," a twisted little smirk hit his lip before disappearing, leaving Wren a little unsure of inviting him. It was a little late now. She hated her sympathizing nature, but crazy or not, she couldn't leave him out here now, alone.

"Nah, it's alright. You don't look like the mass murderer type. I'm Wren, by the way."

"_Enchanté_. _Merci_ for your kindness."

Wren gave a small snort of a laugh and shook her head. Standing, she offered him a hand up before heading back toward the Jeep, keeping an eye on the man next to her.

"You know, I really can't speak French. Half of what you say flies right over my head."

"_S'excuser_, I shall not do it anymore," he replied a bit teasingly. Wren rose an eyebrow and smirked at him. She sighed and shook her head again before laughing.

"Oh, this is gonna be interesting."


	2. Chapter 2

"So…1876, huh?"

Wren cast a sideways look at the man who sat uncomfortably next to her in the Jeep. She kept at a low speed, a little under the speed limit, to keep him as at ease as possible but they were at sixty-five and he looked like a cat in a cage. He nodded, his clever eyes analyzing the many buttons and following the white lines that whizzed by. She could practically see the wheels in his brain turning, steaming away for a conclusion as to why this did that or why this made that sound. She was tempted to explain but didn't want to spoil his fun.

"As far as I can remember."

"Oh. Do you happen to remember your name?"

He thought for a few minutes, fiddling with the seatbelt and the windows.

"Erik, its Erik," he paused for a moment. "Mademoiselle? Does this 'car' run on an engine like in a train?" Erik asked curiously. Wren looked over at him in surprise before nodding.

"Sort of. Except it doesn't run on coal. Hey, how the hell did you figure that out if you're from another century?" She asked in suspicion. Erik merely gave her a secretive glance before letting his lips quirk in amusement.

"I had the same idea a long, long time ago. I thought it was a failure so I forgot all about it. I suppose I shouldn't have?"

"Uh, no! You'd've been about fifty times more richer than the king of…South America or something." Erik gave a quiet laugh which made her turn and look at the weary man. "What? What's so funny?"

"You have a wonderful way of speech, _mademoiselle_. That and South America does not have…ah, never mind."

"No, what?"

"_Non_, _non_, never mind."

"C'mon, what the hell? What were you gonna say?" she asked in a light laughing way, annoyed but fascinated. Was this man from another century who had lost his memory, insulting her intelligence? Granted politics or world history (whichever category this fell into) was not her specialty, but still…

Erik merely laughed again before looking out the window, staring as the line of trees opened up to a vista of grey green waters and cloudy skies. Wren glared at him from the corner of her eye, playfully annoyed.

Contemplating his lack of knowledge of current technology, Wren decided to show him what she had in her arsenal.

Reaching over, she grabbed the volume knob and with a flick of a wrist she blared the music at a more than moderate level, allowing the thudding music of SPF1000 to mount. Erik jumped, clasping his hands over his ears, his heart leaping up in his throat, pounding hard. His blue eyes widened considerably and he looked about as if he was under attack.

Wren laughed hard, tears in her eyes before turning down the radio. Erik slowly removed his hands, staring at her incredulously as she slapped the steering wheel and giggled.

"That was so fucking hilarious!"

"Was it? Glad I could amuse you," Erik grumbled, glaring at her as she calmed down, her eyes slightly teary, running her makeup.

"Sorry, but you were pissing me off a little. Anywho, you hungry?" she asked, turning her radio to a low thud, listening to 'You're Gonna Be My Angel'. Erik nodded and sunk in his seat before looking at her in disgruntled annoyance.

"Is it so common for ladies to have such foul language, _mademoiselle_Wren?" he inquired in half contempt and disgust. Wren turned a shocked and outraged look on him before nodding. Was he really going on about her word choices now?

"Hell, yes it is. Welcome to the future. And just so you know, I have very good language, thank you, compared to some of the whores out there!" she exclaimed in a very self-dignified manner. Truth be told, she didn't normally speak this way. It came out as a self-defense mechanism to not appear as shy and timid as she normally felt. The vulgarity felt especially strong when attractive men were nearby. It was better than stuttering or becoming bashful which her normal response was.

Erik rolled his eyes before smirking and chuckling amusedly. Wren glared at him as she pulled through the off-ramp of Brookings, looking for the Taco Bell. His somewhat condescending manner of speech toward her was quickly raising her temper. There was nothing worse than being looked down on for her. It seemed like everyone did it and normally it pissed her off pretty easily. But this was insulting, especially when it's by someone that she's doing a favor for.

"You know what? You need to stop that whole look you've got. So I'm not all, 'Hey, look at me, I'm sophistic-mated. I eat caviar and raise my pinky when I drink my tea'," she growled heatedly, drastically flipping out and knowing it. Wildly swinging into the parking lot she made her back wheels skid and squeal in protest. Erik clutched the 'oh shit' handle and leaned back, trying to not fly through the windshield. To be honest, part of her was just enjoying him freaking out.

"_S'excuser_, _mademoiselle_! _S'il te plaît, s'apaiser_!" Erik hollered, struggling with the seatbelt that locked and constricted his broad chest. Wren growled and swung the car into the drive through, frustrated that she couldn't understand his French. Slamming on the brake in front of the order menu, she caused the Jeep to jolt hard enough to send Erik's forehead into his window.

"_Zut_! _Sacré_! _Infecte pute_!" he swore, covering his throbbing brow with a hand, feeling a large lump growing. Wren turned and glared at him. He similarly glowered at her in response from under his nursing hand.

"I don't know what the fuck you said but I'm sure it's not very nice! Don't condescend to me!" she snapped before turning back to the speaker.

"'Ello, 'elcome to Tako Bell. Ceen I take yoor orer?" a heavily Spanish accented voice crackled over the speaker. Wren rolled her eyes at the stereotypical-ness of it all and looked over the plastic covered board.

"Uhhh…two Stuft steak Burritos with guacamole and sour cream. And…two medium cokes," she responded, pulling out her wallet from a purse on the passenger floorboard. Sifting through, she listened to the read-back and pulled forward, drawing out a twenty dollar bill.

Taking a deep breath and letting her simmering temper cool down, Wren realized that she over reacted a bit. Perhaps she was vulgar in comparison to women of his time or even perhaps in her own. This whole thing just unsettled her and made her edgy. Ready to apologize for her behavior, she glanced over at Erik and blinked in surprise.

The exchange over the intercom had deviated his attention away from his injury and her wrath. His eyes had narrowed in clever analysis, studying the drive through set up, brow furrowed in thought. As they waited for the cashier to open the window, she waved a hand over his gaze, distracting him. His vision slide back towards her, giving her shivers at its intensity.

"You alright?" she asked softly, before remembering the large swollen bruise on the side of his forehead. "Um, sorry about that. I just didn't like the way you were talking to me. I get angry too fast sometimes and let it get the better of me. I'm sorry."

He nodded to her apology and turned to gaze outside. "I also allow my temper too much freedom, _mademoiselle_. I apologize if my words made you feel belittled."

Retrieving and paying for her food, Wren drove them to a parking space, rolling down her windows and turning off the engine. She dug through the bag, pulling out a grilled burrito and handing it to him, satisfied that they were back on good terms. Setting a large cup in his holder she started on her food.

"What is this?" he asked confusedly. Wren looked to see him staring in amazed curiosity at the open wrapping. She swallowed and took a drink of her coke-a-cola.

"It's a burrito. You know, Mexican food."

"Mexico?"

"Sort of. This is like Americanized Mexican food, meaning it's been fried in fat and shit," she chomped on hers again. There was that damn vulgarity again. She really had to work on that. "It's good, don't worry."

Almost timidly he nibbled on the tortilla, biting into the soft, doughy material.

After chewing a moment, he frowned, eyeing the internal contents of the now opened rolled food. She watched silently as he poked one large, clever finger into the burrito, pulling out a scoop of beans and meat sauce. Carefully he eyed it before licking at the finger.

For a blatant moment, Wren found herself staring at him, at the way his wet, pink tongue scraped off the sauce, before disappearing into his tempting mouth. She felt her own watering at the simple movement. How could anyone be so sensual in such a stupid act?

"_Mademoiselle_?"

Wren shook her head, furiously, her cheeks flushing at being caught before looking up at him, at all of him, not just his mouth. It was hard to look at him as a whole for she wanted to inspect every inch, to feel the smooth lines of his face. He just looked so…edible himself.

Embarrassed by her thoughts to the point of madness, Wren chomped into her food to appear busy and forced a hard swallow. Clearing her throat she gave a grunt at him, trying to appear preoccupied by her burrito. It didn't sound intelligent, hell, it sounded like a mating call of a Neanderthal but it was all she could manage.

"Are you sure your husband would not mind me staying at your home? I do not believe this is at all appropriate, _mademoiselle_," he inquired politely but sternly, as if trying to gently reprimand her for being too generous. Before the sentence was even completely finished, Wren gagged, choking on a bit of ground beef which managed to lodge itself in her esophagus.

Apologetically, Erik patted her back timidly, watching her as if her response was surprising. Finally, after many an embarrassing moment of coughing and hacking up a lung, Wren managed to give a weak laugh.

"I'm not married! I don't even have a boyfriend!"

A slight frown crossed his brow. He gestured to her nose.

"Then why is your nose pierced in the traditional marriage stud of the east?"

"Dude, okay, nowadays, this," she pointed to her piercing, "Does not mean I'm married. It's just cool looking. I've never even had a long term relationship past a year, okay?"

For some reason this seemed confusing and appalling to him.

"If I may ask, how old are you?"

"Erm, twenty-three and a half. My birthday's in August."

Again he was inappropriately disturbed, eyeing her in open curiosity and amazement. Blankly, she remembered that in his time, women were married off at seventeen or so. At her age, she would have been considered an old maid and a complete embarrassment.

Wren stopped attempting to eat and instead fiddled with the edge of her skirt, suddenly ashamed of herself. Erik said nothing but instead took to studying her intently with his brilliant blue eyes. She was starting to feel angry again but this time it was almost desperate, as if her status was now being questioned by the world. For some reason, she felt like she needed to defend herself from his scrutiny. When she could no longer stand his silent gaze she blurted out the pathetic reality of it all.

"Okay, I know I'm starting to get up there in years and it's sort of pathetic that I'm not even dating. And, yeah, my friends are all married or are marrying, two of them have kids and they've got families and houses and…and…I know I should be doing those sort of things," she explained desperately, her hands moving in exaggerated movements. She felt as if she couldn't even pepper it with swear words because it was so true. Why on earth was she telling the truth of what had been bothering her to a complete, brain addled stranger?

"And I know it's sort of sad that I'm living alone in a little apartment and I'm working full time and going to college and I've got nothing else…and…and…." finally she drifted off, unable to find anything else to really excuse herself. Despite her convictions, she couldn't look at him. She vaguely wondered if these confessions were for her or for his scrutinizing stare.

When he said nothing, just continued to stare, she managed to look at him, no longer interested in even eating anymore. His eyes were slightly glazed, distant and thoughtful as he considered her, eyebrows soft and mouth tender in pondering. Wren sighed dejectedly and sank in her seat.

"So, yeah, that's why I'm not married and why it's okay for you to stay for a while. It's dumb but what can I say? It's how it is. I don't like it but…" she shrugged and stared off at the distant ocean, her honeyed brown eyes sad. Finally she heard him move slightly and clear his throat.

"I apologize for asking such a personal question. I will refrain and think more thoroughly of what I say before saying it," he murmured soothingly, as if he was the one who had rescued her from the beach. Wren smiled softly, not really happy with the response.

"Don't worry about it. I just wasn't prepared for that. No one has ever asked me if I was married before. Never looked the type for it, I guess. I just…I can't seem to find anyone worth being with."

He still looked at her thoughtfully, as if her explanation did not fully cover his confusion. Was it that common for people just to get married back then? Why was this such a hard thing to understand? Wren's mouth felt like it just wanted to run without her consent. It was his stare that made her feel compelled to explain further.

"Men today just seem so petty and stupid. Guys just want a pretty, stupid tree branch with makeup to entertain themselves with. I'm just not that," she explained dryly, her own insides smarting at that. She sat up a little and turned to him, displaying herself as she was. "I mean, look at me! I'm not small, I'm not slender or feminine. I have a brain, which apparently marks you as untouchable. My hands," she held them up, "are scarred and burnt and rough from working nine to ten hours then going to school. I'm just not…well, in the end, I'm not married and there isn't anyone waiting at home that might beat you up."

Before she could protest or lower her hands, Erik seized them in his own, enclosing her cold fingers in his warm, soft ones. Wren watched in stunned, amazed silence as he looked down at her palms. He gently ran his thumb pads over the burn scars, pink on her wrists and brown on the inside of her hands. Shivers ran up her back and the underneath of her legs as he studied the calluses and scars. What was strange was that he did not do it as an attempt at seduction but merely in study.

After a long time, he finally looked up at her, a small smile on his handsome face. For it was handsome, despite the deformity, which he didn't even bother to hide any longer. Wren hardly even noticed that side; it wasn't quite as important as she imagined it should be.

"I see nothing wrong with your hands, _mademoiselle_, in fact, I think they are better than many," he said gently, his eyes intently searching her own confused one. He seemed slightly puzzled as if trying to remember something dreadfully important. "They are not slender or frail, but strong and characteristic. They work, they know, they feel and understand. Scars are not ugly but they reveal a person's life and what they have suffered. For that is what life is, _non_? Living past suffering? Who wants flawless, delicate hands who know nothing…who feel nothing…who suffer not at all…and can accomplish nothing?"

Unable to form a true intelligible answer, Wren merely nodded, painfully aware that she was being complimented by him. Or compared. To whom, she couldn't be for sure. She clenched her fingers a little, confused by the kindness of his words. He finally focused on her, realizing she had something to say.

"It's too bad that people don't understand that sort of thing here. And it's too bad that I don't really believe you," she admitted in a sad, sardonic tone. Relishing the feeling of his warm, comforting hands over her own for one final moment, she slid her cold ones free, turning to wrap up her burrito for breakfast.

Erik said nothing, his hands lying still in his lap, watching her intently as she turned on the Jeep, pulling it into reverse, blinking away her confusion.

"Let's get out of here."


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, here it is. It's not much but its home."

Opening the door to her apartment, Wren pocketed her keys and fumbled with the wall trying to find the light switch. When the light finally came up from her lamp she instantly wished she was more cleanly. The dining room and the living room were connected but they might as well of been one room. A large lumpy red couch sat against the wall across from the door, sporting several squished throw pillows. Earlier that day, she had slept on it and the pillows were still formed how she had set them. There was a wooden low coffee table, covered in homework papers and stacks of books. Several week old coffee cups sat scattered about in random spaces with dark brown rings half way down the bottom.

A large firm brown recliner sat with its back to the dining room with a small table stand next to it, supporting a painted lamp. A dark blue scarf was thrown over the top, hazardously perhaps, making all the light a nice shade of blue. Next to the door on the right was a fairly large television set with, yes, more coffee mugs, some from Starbucks, and an old lace seat cover.

The dining room and living room were pretty much connected. The kitchen (which she dreaded to enter) sat to the right, behind a wall and the main area. She had a small table seated under a large window in the dining area, the blinds drawn all the way up. There were only two chairs there, one occupied by a bucket of paintbrushes and charcoal pencils. The table was completely carpeted by small cups of paint and newspapers. The window was halfway painted with a multitude of colors, not yet with any discernable picture. The wooden floor was littered with millions of sketches of people in movement and of flowers, all in charcoal and pencils.

From the dining room was a short hallway that ended with the open door of her bedroom. The only bathroom sat the right in the hall with an open-faced closet containing the washer and dryer. All the walls were unadorned but when she had moved in a few years ago she had traced and painted them all with maps of Europe.

Embarrassed, Wren looked about, attempting to think of an excuse as to why her home was such a wreck. Honestly, there was no excuse. Generally she was cleanly but these last few years had been hard on her lonely mentality. It wasn't as if she really had company any more, to top off the entire mess. Not even her mom visited any longer.

"Um, sorry it's such a mess. I generally don't have people come up here anymore. Um, the bathroom's over there and the kitchen," she said pathetically, vaguely depressed at her lack of a proper home. She kicked aside a pair of high heels that lay next to the recliner, clearing a small portion of floor.

Again to her surprise, Erik didn't seem disgusted or ruffled by her home. In fact he looked bit more comfortable than he would have been otherwise. Carefully prudent to not step on anything, he padded over the window, his bare feet making soft sounds as he kneeled down and picked up a couple of papers.

Temporarily, Wren found herself watching the way his ankles turned as he walked. His feet weren't gnarled or rough looking like so many other men were. In fact they were clean and manicured like his hands, tidy and well cared for.

It saddened her that she knew most men had ugly feet but she excused the feeling. She was no virgin, in fact she hadn't been since she was fourteen. So far she had counted about eleven different temporary boyfriends in her life with whom she had slept with. But it had never been passionate or loving; just desperate, needy. It was always just a moment in which to hide in from the cruel reality.

"Those are just practice. I'm afraid I'm not too good," she admitted dryly, snapping herself from her depressing reverie. Walking over she picked up a couple as well, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he studied her sketches. Most of the pictures were of women, nude and in different postures. He ran a finger along the line of ones back, as if trying to feel the ribs of the young woman there.

"Actually, they are very good. I am not too talented in charcoal," he muttered dazedly, realizing yet another memory which he hadn't had a moment ago. Looking up at her, he smiled softly, glad he could remember something.

Wren's heart went berserk in her chest, beating furiously as her tight lungs contracted. Why did he compliment her? Perhaps it was because she was rarely complimented but she found herself beginning to believe them. Damn it, that was stupid to do.

Clearing her throat, she stood again, plopping the drawings down on the crowded table before looking around. Deliberately not looking at him, she went to the couch and straightened the crumpled pillows, setting them down neatly. Glancing at the clock on the cable box she realized it was about nine o'clock and she was exhausted. She was getting really pathetic.

"You can sleep on the couch. It's pretty big and comfortable. And I'll get you some blankets but I think you should shower first," she instructed tiredly, going into the bathroom and instantly mourning the sight of the room. There were dirty towels on the rack and several bottles of scented lotion on the sink along with a million bottles of vitamins. Turning on the shower she felt the water to see if it was warm at all.

"Come feel this and tell me if it's too-" she called over her shoulder, turning to bring him into the bathroom. He was one step ahead of her, however. Not even two inches from her, he stood behind her, trapping her between him and the tub. When she turned about to find him, she abruptly bumped into the sight of his calculating blue-green eyes.

Startled she stared up at him and his half smile, vividly aware of the steam coming from the now hot water behind her and of his body only a few inches away. Unconsciously, her gaze was drawn down the broad expanse of his exposed chest, dusted with light hair.

Erik smiled slightly, towering above her, before reaching around her to put his broad, artistic hand in the water. He drew it back before leaning forward and down to adjust the water.

Unfortunately, that brought his face far too close to hers then next to her shoulder. A timid, scared breath escaped her as he pulled back. That was a bit too close.

"Um, okay. I'm gonna leave now. When…uh, when you're finished come and find me. I need to check that blood before you go to sleep," she instructed a bit loudly as she dodged around him, trying very hard to not touch him. The porcelain sink was in the way and she ended up having to push her hips out slightly to get around it, brushing them lightly against his thighs.

"As you wish, _mademoiselle_," Erik responded lowly, his velvety voice slightly mocking her as she closed the door, running from him as fast as she could without tripping which she did anyway.

Waiting until she heard the interruption of the water from his body going into the shower, she went to her room and again sighed a lament at the mess. The wooden floor was carpeted in dirty and clean clothes from God knows how long ago, spotted here and there with piles of books. In the middle of the room stood her large bed with its oak headboard and rumpled white and blue comforters. She wasn't too tall and the bed was a bit too high up for her to just climb in so there were a set of wooden steps up against the side near the window.

Her closet stood ajar, stuffed with clothes and loose hanging blankets and spare pillows. Stepping over laundry and scattered c.d.'s, Wren pulled out several blankets and half squished pillows. Experimentally she sniffed them, unsure of how long they had really been in there. Like everything else, it smelled of Vanilla Fields perfume. Wren had been wearing that perfume since she was nine. Her grandmother gave it to her every year for Christmas and after she died, Wren continued to buy it.

Deciding it wasn't awful, she took it to the living room, laying them out in layers on the couch and situated several pillows at the end. While waiting for him to finish, she went about, collecting as many coffee mugs as possible and taking them to the kitchen sink. She tried her hardest not to look at that room too carefully.

Finally, she finished but he still wasn't done. A little scared that maybe he had hurt himself somehow, she tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear to the door. Nope, still alive and humming, which sounded inhumanly lovely.

After changing into a pair of loose pajama bottoms and a t-shirt she had stolen from her dad years ago, Wren flopped down on her bed, burying her face in one feather pillow, murmuring in contentment. What a weird, weird and amazing day.

It felt like only a few moments later when she felt a nudging on her lower back. Frustrated at being bugged Wren curled into a ball and swatted at whatever it was. She was too goddamn tired to be bothered by anything. A firm hand shook her shoulder, making her grumble sleepily. Finally she felt nothing and she sighed happily.

That is until she felt the hot, deep breath on her ear then the sound of her name coming from some golden throat.

A bit frightened and confused she rolled over, blinking mascara smeared eyes. Suddenly, she found herself staring up at a smiling, wet Erik. His ashy brown hair was nearly black when it was wet as it curled in obnoxious licks and curves on his forehead and corded neck. The color of his hair made the blue of his eyes even brighter if that was even possible. Water beaded and fell down his strong neck and shoulders, trailing down his chest, which she noticed was utterly bare. A flush crept up her cheeks as she studied his toned muscle and the light dusting of hair on his rippling stomach and arms.

Fortunately, for once, he had one of her towels wrapped tightly about his waist, the ends tied at the low curve of his slim hips. But, unfortunately, it didn't hide the contour of his thighs and…

Wren snapped her surprised gaze back up at him. Raising her eyebrows slightly, she backed up in her bed, putting a good foot between them. Erik watched her easily, eyes slightly narrowed like a predator.

"Hi…"

"_Bon jour_…"

"Feel better?"

"Very much so."

"Oh, good."

A long moment of silence ensued uncomfortably.

"Aren't you going to bed?"

"You told me to find you when I finished. Was I wrong?"

Wren stared at him dazedly for a moment, a bit confused in her sleepy haze. Then it dawned on her. Oh yeah. Sitting up on her knees she leaned forward as much as she dared to, to peer at the slight cuts on his chest and arms. It looked a bit like rock scrapes which would make sense if he was washed up on the beach.

"Stay here. I'm gonna get some band-aids or something," she ordered in a bit of a panicky voice. She really needed to get away and collect herself. His almost nude state gave her thoughts which no one should have for the memory-addled man.

Erik merely watched as she attempted to scramble out of the tangle of comforters she got herself lost in. Feeling a bit desperate to get away, Wren leaped out of bed, hoping that would free her from the blankets snare.

It wasn't meant to be that easy. Her foot hadn't cleared the bed, twisted in the sheets. But she didn't realize this interesting fact until her momentum came to an abrupt stop, dragging her to the floor. She hit with a heavy thud on the ground, an ungraceful 'oof!' escaping her.

"I'm okay! I'm good! I'm up! Alrighty!" she hollered in a somewhat high voice, scrambling to her feet and staggering out of the room. Again, to her great misfortune, her klutzy gene kicked in, throwing her balance off and making her bang her shoulder into the door jamb.

Staggering slightly, she hopped in place, cursing loudly whatever God was listening at that moment before trotting off, feeling foolish. As she fetched the band-aids, peroxide and paper towels she flushed a shade to make a tomato envious. Why did she have to be so damn dumb? She couldn't even get out of bed without damaging herself in some form.

When she was confident that her face was somewhat normal, Wren went back to the room to find Erik perched on the edge of her bed, smiling lightly. Was he making fun of her? Wren glared at him slightly at his too innocent face.

"What?" she demanded as she determinedly sat next to him and tore off a towel and opened the peroxide. Erik shrugged nonchalantly, still smirking slightly.

"I was just remembering in a completely admiring way the way you glided out of the bed," he responded lightly, a low laugh rumbling under his words. Wren pursed her lips in an annoyed pout, dousing a patch of the towel in antiseptic. Making fun of her again, was he? Silently, she dabbed the multitude of abrasions, relishing his low hiss of annoyance at the pain.

Still silent, she applied a patch to one cut on his collarbone. After gently pressing the bandage on, she quickly slapped the covered cut, lightly but enough to hurt.

Erik flinched with a hiss and put a hand over the area, still grinning resignedly.

"I deserved that one."

"Yes. Yes, you did, you mean man," Wren reprimanded playfully, determinedly treating all the cuts in a similar fashion without the slapping. After she finished she used the sleeve of her t-shirt to dab away whatever excess water dripped down from his hair.

"There. All done. Now you can go away and let me sleep," she said, silently cheering herself for not looking down at his lap. Once again she flopped down on top of the covers to sleep, trying to ignore him even though he sat not even a foot away. But, again, sleep was not in the cards for Wren.

"_Mademoiselle_? I do not have any clothes," Erik whispered, poking her in the ribcage. A low moan escaped her, accompanied by a piteous whimper as she dragged herself out of bed. Whining in her throat she trotted to the closet, accidentally tripping on a pile of clothes on the floor.

"Stupid…damn…man with his problems…" she muttered, not bothering to keep her voice down. Yanking out a pair of loose slacks from one of her ex's and a big white t-shirt she flung them at him, not caring if he really caught them.

What she did care about was what he did next. Without much warning Erik stood and untied his towel. He dropped it without much further ado to begin fiddling with the black slacks. A bit dizzied by the blood rushing to her head, Wren spun about, amazed that he did that. To busy herself she went and collected her old dusty blue robe which clung comfortably and reached her knees. After a few moments, she glanced over her shoulder.

"These pants are too short," Erik commented easily, as if unaware that he had been totally naked in front of her only a moment ago. Wren wondered if he was raised by wolves or something for a moment. It was like he had no real sense of human vanity accept for his face which apparently he had abandoned that one too.

"It's fine, you big whiner," Wren grumbled, coming over to tug at the snug fitting shirt. It clung to all contours of his broad shoulders and chest nicely, lining them instead of hiding them and the shade wasn't bad either. The pants he had pulled up way too high for the style, which made her giggle slightly.

Timidly but surely, she grasped the edges of his slacks, tugging them down slightly so they clung to his hips instead of at his ribcage. With his height, the top of her head reached about chin height, so her hands were about the right area for his hips anyway. It made her maddeningly nervous, with her hands fluttering near his stomach and legs. And to make it worse, she damn well knew that he knew it.

"See, now go out and go to bed like a good boy," she finally said after choking a bout of inane thoughts. She looked up determinedly at him to show she was no longer flustered, hands planted on her hips. He merely smiled that infuriatingly beautiful smile and left with no problems with his legs like she felt she had.

A brain-wracking, heart-stopping noise awoke Wren the next morning, splitting the air and forcing her to attempt running in a half awake state. Unfortunately, when you get only a few hours' sleep, then attempt running away from a noise you can't find, grace is an impossibility. Following a similar falling course as the night before, Wren found herself on the cold wood floor, her brown hair falling in her terrified, confused face.

Swirling up overhead was a mass of thin smoke which explained why the fire alarm was going off. Scrambling to her feet, she skittered down the hall, slipping more than once in her socks to the kitchen.

"Erik! Erik?" she cried in panic, seeing him fighting back a small fire with a kitchen towel. He looked up at her briefly before finally patting down the tiny flame. Confused and distressed, Wren came closer, waving smoke away from her face.

"What the hell happened?"

"I woke up early and came in here to…explore a little more and found this," he explained in soft apology, indicating a scorched toaster. His sad, regretful manner was as if he had accidentally run over a neighbors puppy and Wren had half a heart to just let the incident go before…

"Is that a fucking FORK in the toaster?" she asked slowly, her tired brain registering what had started the fire. A somewhat bent utensil stuck out guiltily from the blackened grate, burned and hot. Erik eyed the once shiny contraption before raising a single dark, expressive eyebrow.

"Toaster? Hmm."

Wren felt her arms fall to her side as her mouth dropped. Slamming the butt of her palm against her aching forehead, she sighed and shook her head. It didn't help her throbbing headache that the smoke alarm was still blaring in the living room and hallway, piercingly.

With a final disbelieving glare, she turned and trotted to the alarm, waving her hands around it in an attempt to flush the smoke away.

"I cannot believe you put a fork in the toaster! That is like one of the number one things of what not to do with a toaster! Do you have any idea of what-?" Wren began ranting heatedly. She had been about to turn about and chew his 1800's ass a new one but she felt a presence behind her.

Carefully she craned her head over her shoulder, finally taking in his disheveled appearance. His light brown hair fell fetchingly about his face, soft and full now that it was clean. The brilliant, green flecked blue of his eyes shone apologetically in the morning light which filtered through the smoke. A light stubble of beard covered his chin and upper neck and from this close she could smell his pure manly smell.

"What you could've done?" Wren finished in a dazed whisper, her anger melting quickly. It unsettled her in the back of her mind that he could do this to her so easily but she quickly ignored the thought.

Slowly, carefully, he reached up and tucked a fussed stray of her hair behind her ear, the blunt ends of his fingertips brushing her cheekbone delicately. A whoosh of air escaped her, even though she didn't know it was there. Erik gave her a small smile, the end of his tempting mouth tapering.

"_Mademoiselle_, I am sorry. It was a fascinating object and my curiosity became the better of my judgment. Please accept my sincerest apologies," he murmured in a husky, pleading voice. Reaching down he grabbed her hand from under the sleeve of her thick robe and brought it to his lips. Wren shivered as he placed a gentle kiss on the back of her rough, unworthy hands.

Just like an old romance novel, Wren's mind giggled without her permission. Getting a bit light headed she pulled her hand away quickly from his warm ones, bringing it up to fiddle with her messy hair. There was no time for this shit.

She cleared her throat loudly and trotted away to the coffee maker back in the kitchen.

"So, um, do you drink coffee?" she asked politely, although her voice was a bit too high in her nervousness. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Erik leaned on the doorjamb, his arms crossed across his broad chest. Even with her gaze focused on something else, she could see that he was frustrated and quickly growing upset at her reaction.

"_Oui_."

"Would you like me to make you some? I've got an old recipe from my dad. It's sort of weird cause you use old egg-"

"Why do you get so nervous when I touch you?" Erik suddenly interrupted, not loudly or rudely but in such a serious tone that it stopped her babbling. Wren looked up for a moment, her mouth still open from speaking only a moment ago. Turning a shade of pink, she turned back to the stupid coffee maker, her hands fumbling to dump all of the grounds out.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Erik. I don't have a problem," she said quickly, trying to sound confident but it sounded like a big lie even to her ears. The trembling in her hands became worse as he approached. She could feel his intense eyes studying her hands and her flushed face.

"_Oui_, you do. I can see it. Do I frighten you?" he asked darkly, his voice suddenly taking on a deadly tone. Wren frowned in desperation to hide her rampant feelings as he came within her personal space. Fuck, what if he was some psycho killer that tricked her into bringing him home?

"No, no, I'm fine. Really. Just fi-" she stopped abruptly when Erik's hot, somewhat rough hand grabbed one of hers. Startled she jerked away, dropping the coffee canister on the floor. The black grains jumped and splayed across her used-to-be-semi-clean ground.

Without bothering to look or say anything to him, Wren fell to her knees on the floor. She hid her frustrated face in her hair as she scooped up handfuls, dumping them in the sink. Erik kneeled down opposite of her, helping her brush together the mess. But she was well aware that his eyes were fixed upon her and that he was still angry.

Finally it was cleaned up and Wren moved to stand. Before she could even get to her feet, Erik reached out and grabbed both her wrists in his hands, drawing them together in front of her. Reflexively she tried to wrench away but his hold was firm.

"Wren, look at me."

She gazed away, under her hair at the cabinet, attempting to block out his smooth, powerful voice. She would not let him get to her and order her about.

"Wren!" Erik barked sharply. Wren flinched and carefully looked at him, not raising her head or coming closer. He stared at her fixedly, as if trying to read why she acted this way. After a few moments his grip relaxed but he didn't let go.

"Please, _mademoiselle_, explain to me as to why I cannot touch you or look at you closely without you becoming so afraid?" he asked again, trying his hardest to be gentle with her despite the unexplained anger inside. It rose and bubbled like an old pot of black gunk that suddenly came to life inside. Something about her frightened gaze and her purposeful avoidance raised that wrath. Erik wished he knew where it came from or why he felt it but he could not. The memory was locked away somewhere in his brain and it was fighting to not resurface.

Wren's brown eyes filled with angry, unwanted tears and her mouth tightened in dislike.

"Why should it matter?"

"Why should it not?" Erik shot back, frustrated with her and becoming angrier. It was her stare that was setting him off. He knew that was the source of his anger. Somehow, he understood. As if he had seen the same look, somewhere, at some time in the near past. "_Mademoiselle_, you mentioned how men you think they think of you and I believe you-"

"How do you know what I am thinking?"

"I see it. I see it when you look away from me, when you flinch when I touch your hands."

"How do you know it's not because of your-" Wren cut herself short, biting her lower lip in self-chastisement. She realized that she was falling to an all-time, lying low by saying what instantly popped into her head in defense of her behavior. But Erik knew and she had a feeling he would never forgive her.

"Because of my face? Is that it? Are you terrified of my face?" he asked lowly, despairingly but with such a tone of furious anger that it frightened her more. His eyes suddenly became hard, glittering at her in a rage that seemed years in the making. This new side of Erik scared her terribly, this hateful fury that sprung up at the mention of his deformed face.

"Erik, let go of me," she whispered fearfully, not at all liking where this was going. The grip on her wrists tightened, almost painfully. God, no, not this…

"No!"

"Let me go right now, you fuck!" Wren attempted wrestling her hands away but it was no good. He was simply too strong for her. Something in him had snapped at her words and his very mind had slid away from their reality. She could almost see it in the glazed, hurt fury in his eyes.

To her utmost terror, Erik took her hands and placed them on his face, one on the rough normal side and the other against the skin of his deformity. His cold blue eyes glared into her terrified brown ones, not really seeing her.

"Does this frighten you? Does this truly scare you so badly that you cannot look at me? Do I disgust you?" he roared angrily, almost taking pleasure in the way she flinched and hide her face against her strained arms. Sudden, terrified tears slid down her cheeks, burning her flushed face more.

"No, no, Erik, it isn't that! I'm sorry for going there! Erik, you're hurting me!" she cried out, her voice faltering to a terrified whimper as his hands bruised her smaller wrists. But he didn't seem to realize his own fingers were forcing her nails into his face.

"Do I scare you so terribly that you cannot even love me, Christine? This monster, this beast, loves you, Christine!" Erik yelled, tears streaming down his own face.

He remembered her face, that little angel whom he had so loved. He could see her, remember her rejection of his love and the deep seated anger inside. But that was all. No reasons, no words that might explain why he remembered this woman. What had happened to her? He couldn't remember and it infuriated him that he couldn't. Closing his eyes shut against the memory of that wretched girl, he dug the hands even deeper into his flesh, trying to alleviate the inner pain he suffered.

Finally, a stifled sobbing managed to pierce the turmoil of his confused brain. The cold hands he held shook terribly and the smell and feel of blood finally shocked him to reality.

Opening his eyes, Erik found Wren kneeling in front of her, her trembling arms outstretched to him. Furious, scared tears fell from her swollen brown eyes and Erik had to bite a cry at the simple resemblance of them to his angel's. Her distressed face pressed into the folds of her robes shoulder to hide her shameful terror.

With a sigh, Erik finally let go of her hands, his own trembling at the memories and at the terrified woman before him. Wren drew her hands in to her chest and he saw the blood under her fingernails, his blood, as she covered her white face with them. Unable to speak he watched as she shuffled away, hiding against the corner, shaking and sniffling at his actions and her weakness.

"Wren?" he called softly, shame flooding him so fully that he felt his heart might break from the pain of it. The woman winced and curled her legs up to her chest, trying to disappear.

"Wren, please, I do not know how to apologize enough for this. I had not mean to do it. It is just that…" he reached out to touch her shoulder and immediately she jerked away, her face finally emerging to stare at him in fright. There were traces of his blood on her flushed face and her tears couldn't seem to wash them away. She looked as though he would kill her there on the spot. He had hurt her, he could see the way her wrists reddened and grew swollen from his grip.

Erik stared at her brokenly, trying to think of a way to apologize to her for his actions. The memory just came too suddenly and it seared him like a whip of white fire to the soul. It was as if he couldn't even recognize her as who she was. He saw Christine, Christine with her tight brown curls and innocent chocolate eyes. Yes, now he remembered the name of that angel and it burned him hatefully.

He opened his mouth to explain all this to her but nothing came out. What words could he say to repent for these heinous actions? Realizing that the best thing to do was to leave for good, Erik sighed miserably and went to stand. He never got the chance.

Without warning, she flung herself into his arms, sobbing quietly. Startled he sat still before gently wrapping his arms about her trembling frame as she cried into his shirt, clenching the fabric between her fists.

Wren wasn't sure what on earth she was doing, hugging and bawling to the very man that had been hurting and scaring her. She just knew and accepted that she wanted to be held and told that he didn't mean it.

Leaning back against the cabinets he pulled her halfway into his lap, murmuring meaningless words of apology into her shell-pink ear. She slowly relaxed in his hold, sniffling and shuddering small sighs.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just can't help how I get," Wren finally murmured with a heavy sigh. When she felt him stiffen around her she looked up frantically, her eyes searching for patience. "It's not just you. It's all men. They all just… scare me, I guess."

Erik's somewhat furious eyes softened slightly although he still seemed terribly disturbed. Gently he rocked her in his arms, gazing at her straight spiced-brown hair and playing with it.

"I'm too ashamed to admit why. Otherwise I would tell you," she confessed gently, trying to take the sting from her statement. Erik nodded slightly. For a few moments neither of them said a thing.

"What happened, Erik?"

"I remembered something. I do not know what triggered it. Perhaps it was your fear, perhaps the way your eyes looked at me, but something set off a memory. A very painful one that hurt me and enraged me more than I can say. I do not know what exactly it was but it…it agonized me," he said slowly, as if trying his hardest to put to words what couldn't be. Wren looked up at him again, her eyes no longer so cloudy or confused. She mouthed the name but was afraid to say it. He forced a smile and nodded.

"So, it really is not my face?" he asked, half-joking but he desperately felt he needed to hear it from her.

"No, it's not. It doesn't bother me. If anything, I find you handsome," she replied in all honesty as she reached up and wiped at the small trickles of blood which dribbled from the crescent bites in his face. A flash of anger ran across his eyes but it was quickly smothered.

"I will believe the first part but I hardly do the second."

"No, really. You are. But you're very intimidating and strong and that is sort of frightening to women."

Erik said nothing in return but continued to rock her gently, hoping she might fall asleep so he could be alone with his thoughts. Eventually she did doze off but so did he, his mind tormented from memories of his angel.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again Wren was awoken by a rather loud, rude and upsetting noise. It almost sounded like whipped cream, hissing. Shifting awake, she found herself underneath her blankets in her bed, the afternoon sun glaring through her window. Quickly snapping to full attention, she sat up, trying to find where Erik had gone. Last time she had woken up, only about four hours earlier, the apartment was under threat of toaster-induced fire.

Shifting to get up, Wren hissed in pain and paused. Bringing her hands up, she finally noticed several dark, puffy bruises encircling her wrists. Damn, it hurt when she moved them.

The sound was coming from her bathroom where yellow light spilled forth like artificial sunlight. Rubbing her eyes Wren trotted over to peer in, half terrified of what she would find.

Erik's clever, long fingers were running over a can of shaving crème, testing the nozzle as he read the instructions. He apparently hadn't noticed her yet as he shook it vigorously with both hands. Wren watched amusedly as he pressed the switch with his thumbs, thick frothy cream shooting out on the mirror.

With one finger he scraped a bit off and held it under his nose, sniffing it experimentally.

Unable to resist the temptation, Wren crept a little closer, crouching down and tensing to pounce.

"BWAAA!" she shrieked loudly, leaping out from the doorway at the unsuspecting man. Erik jumped in surprise, his finger covered in shaving cream shoving sidewise across his nose, leaving a white smudge on his face. Wren snorted in laughter at his incredulous face and his wide staring eyes. He looked like a deer whom had just gotten shot and didn't know why.

"Oh, my gawd! That was hilarious as all hell! You jumped so bad!" she laughed in a very unladylike manner, holding onto the towel rack as she giggled. Erik's stare of surprise turned to one of annoyed accusation, his blue eyes narrowing at her.

"What was that for?" he demanded as he wiped a bit of the stuff off. Wren choked a girlish snort and came over closer. Reaching up before she could ponder her actions, she wiped off the rest of the cream with her fingers, the pads in her thumbs brushing over his lips.

"That's what you get for playing with my shaving cream," she replied lightly, her cheeks slightly blushed. His expression dropped for the moment, watching her intently as she finished cleaning up, wiping her hands on his t-shirt. Jolts of electricity ran through him as her hands ran mindlessly over his chest.

With a self-satisfied sigh, Wren turned and left to the kitchen, wanting at least one cup of coffee before her class.

"I've got to go to my college course later this afternoon so you'll be here alone for a little bit. Just don't burn the house down, okay?" she called out to him as she fixed her cup, unsure if he followed her. Taking a quick sip, she went to the refrigerator and yanked it open. "I'm going to fix you something to eat in case you get hungry. You allergic or picky or anything?"

After bending down to check the expiration date on a can of pickles Wren stood up and jumped out of her skin. Somehow Erik had managed to sneak up, next to the open door and silently stand there while she yelled like an idiot. He leaned on the counter, his hands clasped behind him, a small smirk on his lips.

Wren glared at him in disbelief as her heart slid back from her throat to its proper place in her ribcage. After a moment she raised her eyebrow.

"Better tell me now before I make you something that'll kill you on accident…maybe."

"I am not allergic to any foods nor am I terribly 'picky'. As for the 'anything', I am not sure considering that is just too broad of a topic," he replied in his silky smooth voice, putting her in a slight stupor at the breathtaking timbre and sound. Privately she collected herself enough to realize he was being condescending again.

"Hah, funny. You are just too much," she muttered grumpily as she turned back to grabbing sandwich materials. Loaded arms full of condiments, sliced meats and cheeses, she kicked the door closed and went to a semi clean counter where she dumped the various bottles and packages.

"Alright, I've got pastrami, turkey, roast beef, um, bratwurst. What do you want?"

"Pastrami."

"Mustard? Mayonnaise? Ketchup?" she continued, pulling out a loaf of bread from a cabinet and untwisting the opening. She set them down on a plate before looking up at the silent man. He looked confused, as if trying to search whatever massive dictionary he had in his mind for what those might be.

"Hello? You okay?"

"_Oui_. What is ketchup?" he asked blatantly, seeming thoroughly stumped. What was worse was that he seemed completely horrified that he had no idea what the condiments were.

Picking up the ketchup she opened it and squeezed it enough so that the thick, red stuff dribbled out a bit.

"Here, taste it. This one is the ketchup," she explained, holding out the bottle to him. A bit timidly, Erik wiped off a small amount and brought it to his nose. She watched amusedly as he stretched out his tongue and tested it. A more than slightly disgusted expression crossed his face, causing the deformed side to crease.

"Please, not that one."

"Yeah, it's only good with fries or something. Try…mayonnaise. It's pretty good on sandwiches."

Same procedure with better results.

"I know of that one. Only a little of that one."

"Yay for Miracle Whip. Okay, now this one is mustard. I actually really like this one," she wiped the yellow paste off the nozzle and held it out to him on her finger. She expected him to take it from her onto his finger to taste but apparently that wasn't in his mind. Gently but firmly, Erik took her hand and brought it closer, taking a step nearer to her. The thought of struggling flittered through her mind but she felt like she was before a flying bullet.

In no way shy or timid, he kept his intense green-flecked eyes fixed on hers as he brought her hand up to his face. She jumped slightly as if mildly electrified as he slid her finger into his mouth, the heat of it startling her. Her lungs didn't seem to want to work as she felt his warm, wet tongue tasting and sliding about her finger, scraping off the salty-sweet mustard.

Finally he let go of her appendage, watching with satisfaction as she stared at him somewhat dumbly. Like a cat, he licked his lips and smiled a bit demonically.

"Mm, ye yes, definitely that one."

A nervous laugh broke from Wren as she turned away from him, her hands trembling. In a jumpy fidgety way she made him a sandwich and stuck it in a bag. Erik leaned on the counter next to her, watching in a very mellow, satisfied way.

"Uh, okay, well, your, um, sandwich is in there. There's coffee still and soda in the fridge and…uh…what?" she rambled distractedly as she put the food back. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he came ever closer, his height intimidating her as she spoke.

She yelped like a kicked dog when he reached out and grasped her hands in his. Silently, she watched him as he looked down at the angry bruises on her wrists with soft self-condemnation, thumbs brushing over them softly. His brows ceased and the ends of his mouth turned in anger at the nights actions. Finally, he looked up to her with a sad, sincere look of apology. Wren was about to tell him to knock it off, when he yet again stunned her into silence. Lifting her hands to his mouth, Erik kissed the backs of them.

Staring up at him in a confused, dazed way she opened her mouth to speak several times and ended up trying to speak with her now freed hands. Waving them in front of her like a mute girl who forgot sign language she scooted about him, fixated by his apologetic smile.

"S-Shower!" Wren managed to squeak out before turning to run, or rather, stumble towards the bathroom. Maybe there she could collect whatever wits she had left.

Wren packed up her books, grudgingly glaring at her enormous botany manual as the other students chattered and filed out. Looking up, she found herself alone in the lab. All of the glittering instruments were set for the next day or put away and the black sinks clean. Shrugging out of her white lab coat, Wren went over to a large walk-in closet near the display of animals in preserving liquids to put it away.

"Okay, back home to Erik then, for an hour or so at least," she mumbled to herself as she grabbed her backpack. It was completely covered in bumper-stickers from a nearby hippy store, parading clever or witty sayings on mankind's stupidity.

She almost absolutely hated leaving him there. The first hour of class had been alright but as the third hour rolled about she was a nervous wreck. After three hours he could have killed himself with the electric stove or God knows what else.

Considering he was a fully grown man, Wren felt a little silly being so concerned about him. Sure, he nearly set the house on fire and suffocated himself with shaving cream but anyone could do that on accident, right? No, on second thought, they don't.

"Who's Erik?" an annoying, girly voice interrupted her thoughts. Wren jumped about five feet in the air, dropping her bag with a heavy flood to the linoleum. Whirling about, hands clenched halfway in front of her, she spotted her pseudo-friend Janette in the doorway.

Blowing a sigh of tensed relief, Wren gave her a sharp look as she reached for her bag. Why did everyone have to scare the living shit out of her?

"No one," she replied to the approaching woman, her tone clearing showing her reluctance to talk about it. Janette flipped her long, obviously dyed blonde hair over her shoulder, her straight bangs hanging just above her sparkling Barbie-doll eyes. She wore a low cut princess shirt with gold sparkles in the shape of lips and tight jeans with high heels.

Janette was more of an annoyance Wren had learned to deal with over the last year than a friend. For one thing, she was stupid. The only reason she was in college was for pre-school education and that was only for if her stripper career failed. For a long time she attempted involving her in her classes but so far…no. Just no. Also, her bleach must have addled her brain and procured this obsession with tiny 'cute' things.

"Apparently, it's someone," Janette retaliated in what she must have considered clever way as she jumped up to sit on the counter. Wren gave her a hidden glare as she picked up a scalpel from a tray and began cleaning her nails.

"You know, that particular scalpel was in a frog's egg sack today," she remarked lightly, swinging her bag on her shoulder and heading for the door. Janette's generically pretty face crumpled in disgust. Throwing the scalpel down on the tray as she slid down, the blonde followed her.

"Did you finally get a boyfriend?" she inquired in a gossipy voice as she caught up. Wren rolled her eyes in annoyance, walking in a hopefully dismissal way towards the exit. "You did! Oh my gawd, you did!"

Wren winced horribly at her high-pitched squeal and the idiotic clapping that followed. Every time she conversed with this particular woman, she ended up with a head ache and an appreciation for gags.

"No, no I didn't."

"Oh, don't lie to me!" she wagged a reproachful, pink painted finger at her, winking. "You can't lie to your BFF. You're dating again."

"I don't date, remember? Most men end up running away, screaming something like 'the power of Christ compels you', within five minutes of knowing me."

"So what's wrong with him?" Janette continued, ignoring her statement. "How come you won't talk about him? Is he really ugly? You always seem to pick some ugly ones. Not like my Travis."

"He is not ugly. He's actually very handsome," Wren replied a bit haughtily, her pace picking up as she shoved through the doors. Janette skipped ahead of her, hands clasped behind her as she walked backwards, grinning.

"So…there is a man. I knew it. What's he like? Is he really hot? Where did you meet him?" when there was no forth coming answer Janette narrowed her blue eyes and grinned. "Is he huge? Is that why you're with him?"

Wren gagged a little in surprise and to her luck she ended up choking on misplaced spit. Janette's laughter rang annoyingly in the clammy, close air. Reaching her Jeep, she swung open the backseat and dumped her bag unceremoniously inside.

"I-I don't know. I haven't done that yet. I wait a little while longer than a week to do that," she replied snippily, then added under her breath, "Unlike some."

Janette swung her hair over her shoulder again, that fake Miss America grin still plastered in place. She watched as Wren got into the driver's seat and turned on the engine.

"So when do I meet him?" she hollered over the motor as she pulled out. Wren heard but put her hands up and shook her head, mouthing 'I can't hear you'. And with that she sped off, nearly clipping a black Sudan in her haste. Looking back she spotted the dumb idiot yelling louder at her rear bumper.

"Damn, she is fucking stupid!"

_"Erik? Erik, I'm home!" Wren called out as she closed the door behind her, locking it in the process. Glancing about she found the apartment actually cleaner. Any garbage was picked up and all her paintings were set in neat piles on the table. Paints, brushes and charcoals were cleaned and set in cups along with several sets of clean sheets. From the kitchen she smelled something miraculously spicy and heady along with low humming. The only light on was the kitchens, its golden glow spilling into the dining room._

_"Erik?"_

_Coming into the room where he apparently was, Wren felt an overwhelming wash of spices and warmth come over her. Did she even have those kind of herbs in her pantry?_

_Standing over the stove with a large spoon, Erik stirred the contents of a pot carefully, his clever blue eyes analyzing his work. She heard his voice underneath the bubbling of stew, rumbling a lovely lullaby, as he worked._

_For a good few minutes she watched him, as he moved about, grabbing spice jars and sniffing them. His lean body, still in the pajamas she gave him, shifted and stretched easily and gracefully. She found herself staring at his large strong hands as they tenderly worked._

_The heat from the stove was getting to her as she stood in the doorway, in her large jacket with its stains and broken zipper. Reaching up she grabbed her hair and began twisting it into a bun at the back of her head. Her movement grabbed his attention._

_"Ah, you are home. Good, dinner is almost ready," Erik greeted, his voice warm in the simple joy of cooking. Wren shoved a pencil from her pocket through the messy bun, pinning it to her skull and shrugged out of her jacket._

_"It smells really good. What is it?" she complimented in amazement, coming up beside him. She felt him look at her studiously, could feel his eyes taking in her black turtle neck with its sleeves up at her elbows and her shabby jeans and tennis shoes. She must look like a slob, Wren realized, with a stained pencil in her hair._

_Ignoring him, she leaned over the stove a little bit to peer at the contents of the pot. A thick stew, the color of tomato soup, swirled heavily and bubbled, vegetables and herbs roiling to the surface. She didn't even know that she had vegetables at home to be frank. She must have leaned over a bit too much because she shifted her hand on the edge of the stove and a searing pain erupted in her fingertips._

_"OW! FUCK!" she howled sharply, wrenching her hand away and shaking it. Blowing on the tips, she wasn't aware that Erik had disappeared. Suddenly, she felt him behind her again but she didn't have to time to react._

_Strong arms came about her, the hands grasping her burnt one gently. Wren froze in his hold as his even but concerned breath blew tenderly into her ear, sending shivers through her. The heat from his chest radiated upon her back but she fell back against it almost unwillingly._

_"You should be a bit more careful,__ mademoiselle_. Especially considering your timeless grace," he murmured into her ear in a taunt. Wren frowned a little and considered bitching something back until he put a wet washcloth on her fingertips. A tiny, anguished hiss escaped her gritted teeth and she attempted wriggling away.

But Erik held her fingers tightly, in front of them, trapping her with his arms.

"Now, now calm down. It's only a minor burn," he reassured her soothingly.

"Oh, can it, Erik," she snapped playfully with no real venom. He chuckled into her hair before letting go of her hands. Turning her about to face him, he put his left arm about her while his right retrieved the spoon. Wren looked up at him curiously, her unhurt hand clutching the cloth to her other.

Erik brought a spoonful of stew to his lips, blowing gently at the profuse steam. She found herself mesmerized by the way they pursed and how the tendons in his neck tensed with each breath. Abruptly she realized his hair was combed back neatly, as if he was trying to appease her. Why would he bother doing that when he was seducing her covered in sand and half unconscious?

"Now, try it," he instructed, holding the spoon to her mouth. For a moment she considered rebelling for the sake of it but decided against it. Timidly she sipped it, rolling the rich, exotic taste about her tongue.

"Wow, you made this? It's amazing," she complimented unwittingly, staring at him in shock. Erik smiled a bit sardonically, a lock of light brown hair falling across his forehead.

"Just because I look like a vagabond does not mean that I cook like one," he replied in a laugh. Through his arms and his chest she felt the rumble of his amusement. Wren rolled her eyes at him and considered tweaking his nose before realizing that he was studying her again.

"What?" she asked warily, wishing he'd say something or let go. Erik's brow was knitted in thought as he looked over her expression. Slowly but surely he reached up with his right hand and wiggled loose the pencil in her hair, watching her every move. Wren felt her abused hair fall about her shoulders, wishing it was cleaner. Instantly, he began to dig his fingers in her hair, apparently fascinated by the color. Turning the locks over in his fingers in the kitchen light, he seemed utterly mystified at the red gleams in the brown.

"What?" she demanded again, becoming a bit paranoid at his patient yet focused movements. Erik must have noticed for he stopped his fingers and looked at her fixedly. A small smile grew on his lips and he tightened his arm about her.

Wren was on the verge of freaking out and wiggling away to her Jeep. Again, he must have realized for he leaned in and made it worse. Wren froze in place, her eyes watching him in slight terror.

Softly, Erik's lips pressed against the side of her face, his breath blowing across her cheekbone. A shudder coursed through her frame as he kissed her cheek which began to boil in a blush. It felt like a wonderful kick in the kidneys and she felt her air escaping in one huge whoosh.

As quickly as it happened, the lips moved away and Erik backed away a respectful distance before turning back to the stew. Wren felt her legs wobble dangerously under her and her heart pounded unnecessarily. She sidled a couple of feet to the side, clutching her hand still although she had forgotten it. Erik continued where he left off before she came in, stirring the pot with a pleasant smile on his face.

Stumbling on her own feet, Wren backed into the hallway before heading to her room, vaguely horrified. Did that really happen? Did he just kiss her? A small giddy grin crept onto her as she crlosed her door and went to her closet for her uniform.

"I have to leave for a while. I'll be back tonight after work," Wren said as she took her bowl to the sink, trying to sound calm despite her ricocheting heart. It hadn't stopped hammering around in her chest cavity all evening, making her breath short and her head light. Dinner had been slightly awkward, mostly on her part, but pleasant. Erik on the other hand seemed immensely pleased with himself, eyes soft and that same damn smile on him the entire time.

"When?" Erik asked as he followed her in with his own bowl. Wren gave him a weak smile before shrugging faintly. Was he getting protective of her now? She was a big girl.

"Around one or so."

"In the morning?"

"Yep. I work in stocking and that doesn't happen till about 11:30."

"I will wait for you."

"Really?" she asked in utter surprise, staring at him. Erik raised his expressive eyebrows and nodded. Turning a shade pink, she focused on the bowl she was washing. The damn bruises were still so vivid on her wrists. "Wow. Um, no it's alright. Don't worry."

"I will wait anyway."

Wren wanted to argue so badly but at the same time she wished he would wait for her until the wee hours of the morning. A ghost of the kiss he planted on her cheek came to life and she shuddered at the memory. Stepping out of the kitchen, she searched vacantly for her uniform apron and her thoughts. She felt her expression soften and she stood up straight from where she was bending down to pick up her work gloves. Without really meaning to, she turned her vacant gaze towards him. Her small smile must have startled him and pleased him for he grinned and came closer to grab her hands again.

"I will wait for you, _mademoiselle,_for were you to come in while I slept, you might be dead within that same moment," he said softly, with a delicate tone of sarcasm and severity. Wren felt her face blanch a little but let it slide by.

"Fine then, you brat, you can wait," she conceded with a small laugh. Her humor died in her throat as she looked up at his smiling face. Besides the first time she had met him, his deformity hadn't bothered her. It was like it didn't exist. Perhaps it was his strong, undeniable character or the mere fact he listened, but his face didn't matter.

The way his smile slid off his lips gradually hardly registered in her mind. Vaguely she wondered if she was upsetting him with her staring. Her thoughts were affirmed when he scowled impressively, getting ready to walk off and ignore her and her rude staring. Before he could she did something daring before thinking.

Reaching up slowly but surely she cupped the side of his face with her palm, her fingers brushing the mottled, soft skin firmly. A look of half horrified, half amazed shock spread over him and he froze like a statue under her touch. Against her wrist she felt him release a tense, whispery breath, tickling her.

Before she would lose her courage or panic, Wren stepped closer, willingly into his personal space. A bit dumbly she realized that it was he who always invaded space. Perhaps he needed to be approached once in a while.

Rising up on her tiptoes she pressed her cheek against his normal, warm one, her lips right next to his ear. His skin felt smooth next to hers and radiating heat. She could feel the muscles in his jaw shifting.

Wren licked her dry lips and felt him tighten up even more.

"Thank you. No one has ever offered to wait for me. Thank you," she whispered softly, feeling her heart fluttering and doing cartwheels in her chest. Beneath her palm she felt his jaw loosen and felt his throat swallow a terse gulp of air. Erik turned his head a bit firmly against hers and his arms carefully snaked about her waist to give her a tender hug.

"You are welcome, _mademoiselle."_

Wren had been somewhat afraid that he would reject her touch but when the embrace came, she was glad. The arms pressed her a bit close to him, just enough to get an appreciation for his form. He was firm, warm and smelled a lot like something she would gladly eat. A bit embarrassed, she banished the thought as he let his arms tighten.

A tiny sigh of relief escaped Wren before she pulled away a little bit. Before she moved out of range she gathered the courage and quickly kissed his cheek, right at the corner of his tempting mouth. He must have been utterly shocked for he let go and backed up a little.

For a moment, Wren was afraid she had done something wrong. Erik touched the spot where she kissed him, his eyes soft and wide in blatant surprise, the amazing grey-blue of his irises seeming to gleam oddly in the light.

A strange memory echoed through his brain like a symphony, blaring yet somehow soothing in its loudness. It had been something real at one time; something that had changed him forever. Christine…she…she had kissed him but…

Upon realizing the truth of his recollection, Erik tried to shake the cold fog of memory. Gazing at the woman in front of him, Wren, he spotted her semi-terrified face and smiled softly, a bit sadly.

"Only one person has ever kissed me willingly and it was a lie," he mused halfway to himself. He looked down at his feet and then at the dark hallway, his brows furrowing deeply as he thought. "Chr-She did to get her love and leave me. After everything I did. After all of it…"

His deep, thick voice died off as he remembered, a dark pain stinging his heart like a forceful syringe. Wren shuffled a little, shifting from one foot to the other in shame, face pale.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Erik's unfocused gaze fixed on her again and he seemed to struggle to not be lost in thought. Slowly he shook his head, trying to clear the painful memories away like cobwebs. A lock of his brown hair fell loose and fell in his face.

"No, it is alright. I liked it," he admitted abruptly, as if he was realizing his true thoughts as he spoke them. Giving her one more strange but soft smile he turned and disappeared into the bathroom, quietly closing the door and turning on the water.

Wren felt like tearing her lips off at that moment. What the hell was wrong with her? What was she doing? When would she learn? At the same time she felt a little giddy again. Did he mean it?


	5. Chapter 5

As quietly and slowly as possible, Wren opened her front door, wincing when her keys jingled on her chain. Sidling in she peered about the dark apartment, trying to figure out where her guest was. It was nearly two in the morning and with no lights on it was impossible to see a thing.

Figuring that he probably fell asleep on the couch (which she couldn't see), she kicked off her tennis shoes and set her bag down carefully. Remembering what he said about accidentally killing her, Wren tiptoed slowly towards her room, trying hard to be silent. After bumping into a chair and tripping on a box of paints, she figured he must have heard her at least a little.

"Well, I guess I can't be too surprised," she muttered a bit sadly as she went into her room, closing it behind her. He hadn't stayed up for her. She shouldn't be so let down about it but she couldn't help it. The thought had been keeping her through work today. Having anyone waiting at home for her was amazing.

So lost in thought, she didn't notice that her lights were on and that someone was watching her. Pulling off her sweater and her apron, she nonchalantly threw them on the floor and sighed. She had really been looking forward to seeing him when she got home.

"Can't be too surprised at all..."

"About what, _mademoiselle?"_

A small squeal of surprise and embarrassment slipped out of Wren as she clutched her heart and looked towards Erik's voice. Lounging easily in her bed, Erik sat with his back against her headboard, her white and blue comforters pulled about his waist. A book lay in his lap, one of his elegant hands across its well-worn cover. But at the moment, none of that really registered in her startled and now stupefied brain.

Erik wasn't wearing a shirt, which was bad enough, but with the blankets she couldn't tell if he wore pants. Jesus fucking Christ, what if he wasn't? She found that she was enjoying the idea and tried to kill the half-hope. Oh, but he was an alluring picture there, with his hair smoothed back from his brow.

Forcing a nervous smile, Wren pulled her hair loose and ruffled it, trying to distract herself from the seductive man in her bed.

"I thought you might have fallen asleep," she admitted sheepishly. As she walked to her closet Erik watched her, one exquisite eyebrow raised in slight amusement.

"I said I would wait. Did you not believe me?" he asked lightly, a little tone of insult in his voice. She shook her head vigorously as she reached into her closet and grabbed her old comfy robe, her red-brown hair falling about her face in disarray.

"No, I did. Well, okay, I did think that maybe, just maybe you had drifted off," she replied doggedly. Walking over to the bed, she sat at the foot of it, opposite of him. Reaching up, she shifted her hair to the nape of her neck and began running her fingers through the tangles.

Erik rolled his eyes at her before picking up the book again and decidedly ignoring her. Wren suddenly found the sight of his disarrayed and easy locks a tremendously handsome vision and blushed. Damn it.

"So…uh…what book did you find?"

"Erotic Poetry, Songs of Love, Longing and Desire. I must say, _mademoiselle,_that I was not expecting to find such a collection of rapturous literature in your shelves," Erik commented in appreciation, his deft fingers flipping through the pages. Wren's blush deepened severely and she reached to snatch it away. Erik held it just out of range to the side, a small, impish smile on his lips.

"Are you embarrassed?"

"A little. That's like finding porn in a bathroom. Please give it back."

"Porn? What on earth is 'porn'?"

Wren's mouth dropped to just above her collarbone and she stared in blank silence. When Erik's expression grew even more mischievously curious she shook her head roughly and scrambled across the bed to snatch at her book.

"Oh, hell no! I am not gonna explain that to you! That-just-eh-…what on earth did guys watch in the 1800's then?" she bitched as she tried to grab her prize from Erik, who seemed more than happy to play keep-a-way. Wren tried hard not to fall on him with her wild grabbing from her seat but he was making it purposefully difficult. With his longer reach, he held it out and away from the bed and behind him, grinning at her feeble attempts at reaching over him and not touch him at the same time.

After a few minutes, she sat back and gave up momentarily Crossing her legs and propping her chin in her palm, Wren gave him a narrow look. Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes she eyed him, trying to think of a way to get her book back. He already read the damn thing but still, it was embarrassing.

"How about this little proposition? Tell me what 'porn' is and I will give you back your book, which I have already read thoroughly. And I enjoyed it, to be truthful," Erik proposed in a small tease, his voice dropping to a semi-bashful confession near the end. Wren thought about it, frowned, opened her mouth once then closed it. Finally, she sighed and flopped back onto the bed, her legs uncrossing, and her feet thudding on her pillows.

"Fine. Fine! I'll tell you what 'PORN' is. I can't fucking believe this," she started giggling at the very idea, a small snort slipping through. "Okay, porn is…sexually explicit material that is meant to stimulate and satisfy, if I remember correctly. Now hand it over."

Erik frowned a little bit, apparently mulling it over in his head. Leaning forward he fiddled with the tie to her robe, thinking. Wren froze at that, staring at him from where she lay.

"So, a display of women then, in general?" he asked slowly, as if completely unsure of his conclusion or trying to egg her on. She wasn't sure which but he definitely got the reaction he wanted. Wren spluttered indignantly and sat up on her elbows.

"No, no, no. That's not right. Not all women. Just really loose women who have no other talent other than spreading their legs for a camera."

"Camera?"

"Um, an audience."

A horrified and disgusted look crossed Erik's face and his nose crinkled.

"Whores."

"Pretty much. They sleep with guys so others can watch. Sometimes with two guys or a girl. Or even, and this is so freaking gross and creepy, with animals like horses," Wren went on, sitting up and wrapping her arms about her knees. Leaning closer she whispered quietly, as if what she was muttering was death worthy. "I found one in Blockbuster of fat women and midgets."

It felt a little wrong to feel satisfaction at his disgust but it at least proved to her that he wasn't some severe sicko. Erik leaned even closer to her, so that his gaze was about three inches away. Wren's face went blank as she tried to figure out what he was up to. Suddenly his expression crumpled to one of disbelief and horror.

"A horse? Is that even possible, considering proportions and anatomy?" he asked seriously, a small laugh under the low tone of his voice. Wren laughed at that, falling to her back again, away from his dangerously close heat. Rolling to her side, facing away, she gave a snort and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Apparently. I mean, it's not like its new or anything. Some race of people put virgins into wooden cows and allowed bulls to-man, I am too tired for this. I'm chatting about horses, midgets and porn."

Rolling off the bed she began unbuckling her jeans, expecting him to leave. When he didn't move, she raised a nervous brow at him.

"Um, can you leave? I need to go to bed."

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"I no longer have a place to sleep."

Wren's face went dead serious and her arms fell to her sides as she turned to face him. Erik gave her a guilty, sheepish smile before snuggling down into her bed, turning on his side and pulling the blankets over his head. It would've been cute if Wren didn't have this horrible sinking feeling.

"Erik? What did you do to the couch?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a little soup and an unfortunate event with candles," came his semi-muffled reply. Wren was about to question him then decided to leave to investigate then changed her mind. With an exasperated moan, she came to the conclusion that it was too fucking late to care. She would almost bet money on it that he did it on purpose.

Making sure his head was still under the blankets, Wren quickly changed into sweats and a t-shirt, her hands shaking. She was going to sleep a whole night in a bed with a man. An incredibly hot man. Of course she had been with guys but they'd never shared a bed through the night.

Puffing a nervous breath out, she flipped off the light, allowing her eyes to adjust. Streetlights streamed in from outside the window, making every shadow rather sharp and distinct in the orange light. With terribly unsure feet, Wren walked to her side of the bed, eyeing the form in it.

Pulling back to blankets, she sat down and lay out on the bed stiffly, afraid to move other than to cover herself. Next to her she could hear his breathing in the dark, even and steady. Maybe he passed out? After a few tense moments she deduced as much and rolled over towards the window, feeling a bit of disappointment in her gut.

That feeling jumped out of her esophagus, along with her heart, when a strong arm wrapped about her waist like a snake. She gave an 'eep' when it cupped her hip against the mattress and pulled her backwards. Were his hands really that large? A warm, thick chest pressed against her back, her shoulder blades rubbing against bare skin. Her blood froze in her veins as his other arm slid under her waist and folded against the first, trapping her to him.

From behind she felt his legs curve against hers, thankfully clothed, and felt his breath playing on her neck and ear. A shudder ran through her and she melted a little against him. Oh, perhaps that wasn't a good idea, she had as an afterthought. Now, his…groin…was right…

Against her unbearably sensitive spine she felt his heart flutter nervously and it made her feel better that he wasn't exactly confident either.

"Erik?"

"Shh, just go to sleep. You have been working all day," he murmured soothingly into her ear, his hot breath tickling her. She felt him press his lips against her neck, placing several kisses down to her collarbone. A terse breath escaped her when it stopped.

It was going to be a long time before she fell asleep.

To Wren's immense confusion she awoke first the next day. For a few moments she couldn't bring herself to realize where she was or more specifically who was there with her. A puzzled hum escaped her as she shifted on her side, feeling a firm, warm body next to her. Sitting up in the golden morning light she leaned on one arm and looked behind her.

Erik's arm was flung across her pillows (explaining what she had slept on all night) as he lay on his back. The comforters were about his knees, revealing his sculpted chest which rose slightly in deep breaths. The mottled side of his face was turned to her, his lips parted in sleep. She stifled a laugh at the trickle of drool that was dried in the corner of his mouth.

Resisting the urge to tousle his disarrayed brown hair, Wren slid out of the bed, amazingly able to not fall or trip. Padding out of the bedroom, she closed the door carefully, flinching at the little click of the door handle.

Going into the kitchen, she found herself grinning a bit idiotically. It came to her rather suddenly as she fixed coffee that she was happier just sleeping next to a man all night that having him for one sweaty hour. Perhaps that was what she longed for every time she lay there, watching every shallow man loose himself in her. The intimacy of sharing sleep, that vulnerable time in the dark.

Humming cheerfully to herself and for once not caring that she sounded awful, Wren made toast with sweet butter and blackberry jam along with some sliced apples and cheese. Simple, good and easy to eat.

A sudden, loud knock on her front door startled her as she made him a cup of coffee. Who in the hell was here this early to fucking bother her? Cursing lowly at whoever decided to ruin her morning, she trotted to the door, opening it a crack.

"Wren! Good morning, sleepy!" Janette's voice grated on her nerves as it emptied into her unwilling ears. Squinting into the light, Wren felt her sanity shrivel inside her at the sight of her unwanted friend. She didn't attempt to hide the sour face she made at her.

"Can I help you? If it's about the math homework, you can just-"

"Oh don't be stupid. I got that nerd in fourth period doing that. I want to see Erik," she interrupted excitedly, pushing herself into Wren's apartment. Rolling her sleepy eyes, Wren stifled a moan as she closed the door behind her.

Leaning against it she ran her hand through her tangled hair, eyeing the other woman. Did she ever look bad or even remotely human? Janette's flawless hair was up in a fashionable ponytail, every fake strand straight like her bangs. Glittery pink eye shadow matched her lipstick and her tea party shirt with its white cupcake prints. She looked like she stepped out of a Barbie party commercial.

"He's sleeping and I don't feel like waking him up. Come back later," Wren mumbled lowly, keeping her voice down to emphasize her point. Janette turned from where she was observing the couch, pink nails on her size two hips. A disgusted look creased her plastic nose and she pointed at it.

"What happened to your couch?" she demanded in her naturally loud and obtrusive voice. Wren winced and looked, a humorous feeling of dread creeping up on her. Erik had mentioned something about fire and soup. "I mean, it was already really ugly but this is bad."

A large poportion of the seat in the middle was scorched and stained a darker shade of red, the edges of the burn curled and blackened like cinders. Taking a step closer to analyze the damage, she noticed a horrid smell about it, like overheated milk. Crinkling her nose as well, she shrugged and grinned helplessly. It was just the couch. At least it wasn't him burned.

"And he calls me graceless."

"He did that to your couch? Oh, uh-uh, girl! He sounds like a slob. You are way too good for-"

"Janette, as much as I appreciate your unnecessary babbling, please, shut the fuck up. My head hurts," Wren snapped peevishly, before retreating to the kitchen where her coffee awaited her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janette's jaw drop and her arms cross on her waist.

"Well, you don't need to be bitchy," she replied haughtily as she followed. Wren wondered if she ever took a hint when she wasn't wanted. "Well, I just want to see this mystery man."

"Don't. He's sleeping."

A mischievous and playful grin came over Janette's face before she bit her tongue between her teeth and raised her brows.

"Let's go wake him up then."

Before Wren could protest, the skinny broad skipped her way down the hall, her heels clattering like a cow bell. On the verge of bashing her thin skull on the wall, she quickly followed to find her peering into her bedroom.

"Oh, gawd, he is a cutie!" Janette gushed in a quiet squeal. Wren went to grab a hank of her hair only to miss as she tip toed into the room. Fuck! She really wanted to rip the slut's hair out now. Panic shot through her like a bolt of lightning to her gut, as Janette approached his side of the bed. She was going to have to sneak attack the dumb broad in order to get her out of there.

Planting her hands on her knees, the blonde leaned over him slightly, analyzing him like a bitch in heat. Wren realized that his normal side was faced towards her, giving her a one-sided view to him. Semi-casually, she came up to her classmate, feeling insane jealousy and an urge to beat her with whatever object was closest. Hmm, that would be the alarm clock. Might be fun to kill her with, she supposed.

Erik, either disturbed by their staring or by some noise they made, made a small sigh and shifted to his side, revealing his entire face. A completely disgusted look stole Janette's features, twisting them like a sniff of spoiled milk. Her mouth opened to say something but Wren clapped a harsh hand over it, slapping her a bit.

"Get out now," she growled quietly, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from him. Janette allowed her to drag her out and watched her dumbfounded as she carefully closed the door.

"What the hell is wrong with his face? Wren, that guy looks like a freak show attraction!" Janette gasped in disgust. Wren gave her the worst look combined of hate and anger, with a sprinkle of death wishes.

"There is nothing wrong with his face."

"Oh, come on. Did you even see it? God, Travis has to see this shit," Janette pulled her pink shiny cell phone from her pocket, flipping it open. Wren wasn't sure what came over her, but it felt a little bit like murder. She was done; this bitch had to go. Quickly she slapped the phone out of her hands, hearing it clattering to the floor. It actually felt rather great to smack that woman somewhere. She would have preferred the face.

Janette's pretty mouth opened in objection as she rubbed her manicured fingers and looked down at her phone. Staring in confused anger, she took in Wren's disheveled mass of hair and the seething look of loathing. For a moment, she wondered how insane she looked at that moment.

"Don't you bring around your fuck-toy to gawk at Erik. In fact, you just leave him alone. He's not an animal on display," she ordered scathingly, a threat clearly under her tone as she walked to the front door. Janette gave her a challenging look, her pointy chin raising up at her. Picking up her fallen cell, she stomped up to her pettily, ponytail swaying.

"I didn't expect you to choose a guy over your BFF. I guess I should have expected it from you," Janette flung at her in a prettily outraged way. Wren gave a small bark of a harsh laugh, grabbing her attention once more as she held the door open.

"Bitch, did I ever say I was your BFF? No, that was some delusion you came to. So, take your plastic ass and your damn little boy toy and stay out of my life," Wren finished, feeling a million times better now that she had said exactly what she had felt. She didn't even see Janette's face as she marched out, slamming the door shut.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Wren laughed lightly, punching the air in triumph. Today was going to be a good day.

"Erik, wake up. I've got breakfast," Wren whispered a bit loudly, as she set the plate of food and mug of java on the bedside table. Amazingly, the man had slept through the entire escapade in the living room. So much for killing her in his sleep. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she grinned at him as he stirred sleepily.

Legs stretching under the covers, Erik's arms reached out behind him, fisted tightly. Wren laughed a little as he fell limp again, his chest deflating in exhalation. A content murmur rumbled from his throat, which had grown a stubbly five o-clock shadow.

Timidly, she reached out and brushed locks of hair from his face, the tips of her fingers dancing over his brow. Slowly he blinked open his amazing eyes, the gold light of morning reflecting in the deep green and blue crystals in them. At first he blinked at her in confused surprise before he remembered where he was.

"Good morning," he mumbled contentedly, his voice rough from sleep. Wren smiled at him, continuing to play and fuss with his light brown hair. After a moment she dragged her fingers to the side of his face, feeling every groove and raise in his deformity. At first he looked terribly uncomfortable with the attention but gradually eased up. The texture was smooth and soft, almost like an old burn scar before it faded into the skin. Part of her wanted to brag about how she had just defended his honor (essentially) in the living room just a short while ago.

"I made you breakfast," Wren said as she allowed her hand to withdraw easily, completely happy with herself that morning. Erik looked over at the plate and a small smile quirked his lips.

"So you did. Another first for myself."

"I used to make breakfast in bed for my dad when I was little. But that was years ago."

"Ah, so I am on par with your father then? I am honored," Erik commented a bit dramatically, putting a hand to his heart in comic compliment. Wren rolled her eyes at him, a small laugh cracking her lips.

"Whatever, just eat it, you odd-ball," she conceded teasingly. About to stand up, she never made it to the door. Erik sat up like lightening and wrapped his strong arms about her waist and her thighs. A startled scream escaped her as he tugged hard towards the bed, sending her sprawling over him to the cover.

Puffing a cloud of her hair out of her mouth Wren reached up to pull strands from her face, feeling his hands helping her. Erik laid halfway on top of her, pinning her effectively, a smile on his face. Wren felt nervous flutters dance up her skin at the feeling of his weight but forced herself to ignore it.

"So, that was really random," she commented flippantly, as if his hands weren't caressing her face, pulling away stray hair. Erik shrugged before resting his head in the crook of her neck, arms sliding under her form to hold her. Wren trembled, her façade of coolness fading drastically. His breath played on the tiny hairs of her neck, raising goose pimples all over her skin as he touched his lips to her flesh.

"Wren, you are shaking again. Am I bothering you?" Erik asked lowly, a tone of regret in his voice as if he was unsure of what he had just done. Frantically, Wren shook her head, her chin banging on his forehead. "Are you positive?"

"No, only fools are positive."

She laughed, trying to ease her tension but it only came out as a squeak. She felt rather claustrophobic with him on her. It brought to mind all of those men who had been there, crushing her in their need, in their blind lust. She remembered all the pain they heedlessly caused her body in her youth and then her mind as her flesh grew numb. It made her brain feel grime-engraved and rotted as images flitted through it like phantoms.

"Will you please tell me the cause of all this fear? It must be terrible to cause such anxiety," Erik asked softly, sounding awfully sympathetic and soothing to her distressed ears. Forcefully, she blew her breath out, attempting to calm herself. He didn't move from his position, other than to nuzzle his nose against her ear.

"I-I am not sure if I can explain it. It's hard, Erik. I've done so many awful things in my life. I don't want you to hate me," she admitted baldly, unable to hide it under floundering, pretty words. She felt him sigh against her, in exasperation or frustration she couldn't tell.

"Please, tell me. I promise that I have done far worse than you."

Wren snorted a bit at that. The heat radiating from his body was making hers grow tingly, cold shots racing through her in a self-preserving attempt to cool off. "Erik, you can't remember much. How do you know?"

"I am twice your age, which means that I have had more than twice the chances to do wrong. Believe me, I am sure that I am not a good man."

Finding herself a bit trapped by his backwards reasoning, Wren felt her heart pound in blatant panic. Could she do it? Could she tell him what troubled her and kept her locked in her home? Erik's hand slid out from under her to grasp her fisted one, forcing it open and entwining with it.

"Tell me."

"Okay! Okay, I'll try to. God, you are pushy," Wren inhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes, steeling herself for what she was going to say. "When I first moved out, I was really lonely. Worse than I am now and that's fucking bad. When I was in high school, I felt alone even if there were people all around me. But then I lived alone, away from mom and everyone, and it was even worse.

I kept thinking, 'I could die here in my apartment and no one would know, not for weeks.' So I looked for attention in…other…other ways. Any way to keep me from being alone. Every time a guy crossed my path who had even the slightest interest in me, I …I…let them do whatever they wanted."

She felt Erik stiffen against her, his muscles tense at her words, in disgust or anger she couldn't tell. Tightening her lips, she kept her eyes closed as he sat up. Next to her, she felt his elbow resting to prop him up so he could watch her. Shameful tears stung at her like hornets and self-loathing welled like black ichors in her mind.

"Why?" he breathed in slight amazement and sadness. A shuddery breath escaped her and she felt a knot in her chest cut off her air supply and choke her. God damn it, she was not going to fucking cry.

"I just wanted to be loved, I guess. Didn't want to feel so damn lonely anymore. It just didn't matter what the price was then. When it was happening, I always just looked at them and thought, I might have loved you in another life. Because that's when I figured out that I couldn't love any of them, no matter how much I wanted to. I never felt it and I wished I could. They always just left without a backward glance after a while, like I was a piece of trash that they didn't want to step on."

Silence.

"And I am a piece of trash. I feel like…I am a whore and that's why I'm all alone," a small sob escaped her and she turned her face to the side, trying to hide it in the blankets. She wanted to smother herself away from his burning gaze which she couldn't see. "I just wanted to feel warmth and their skin against mine. I thought maybe I could find some sort of comfort in it but it just made me cold. I started drifting away from everyone and avoiding people because I didn't want to hate myself anymore for being a slut."

No answer. He didn't move at all.

"That's why I can't stand you touching me. I'm filthy, I'm awful and I don't deserve it. But I want it so badly and it makes me even more of a bad person," she finished in a quiet whisper, afraid of the emotions which ran rampant in her unwilling soul. It was all the awful truth. All of those attempts at happiness had ruined her and made her so much less of who she was before.

Wren listened quietly to the man above her, too ashamed to open her eyes or breathe a single puff of air. He must be disgusted with her; that's why he was so silent. Revolt must be coursing through him at being against so dirty a whore. She felt her stomach quiver and her legs shake in anticipation for his rejection.

But it never came. No word, not even breath. It felt as if a statue of a man was atop her not Erik. After a moment she licked her terribly dry lips and released a shuddery sigh.

"I won't hate you if you leave. I understand if you do. It might be better that way," she whispered in defeat, her heart clashing in hope that he would and wouldn't. Finally, he moved, slowly but with stiff resolve. Wren felt his large hand slip away from her hers, the warmth of it abandoning her cold flesh. It ran down her forearm, fingers treading over tensed muscle and leftover baby fat, before sliding to her neck.

A jolt of electricity shot to her liver when the appendages tenderly wrapped about her throat, caressing the fine hairs at the back like harp strings. Slowly, they drew upwards to cup her jaw line, the blunt end of his thumb brushing along her chin and lips. Erik rested his head in the hollow of her nape where his hand had been, hot breath blowing on her collarbone.

"Erik?" Wren dared to query, her eyelashes quivering open a bit. A small sound between a growl and a hum responded and the fingers tapped on her lips as if knocking. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" his voice rumbled from his chest to hers like a mighty train, crashing into her sensibilities.

"Why are you bothering with me? I mean, I'm not an 'angel' or whatever. I'm not even a decent person, so why-"

Before she could finish her debasing sentence, the loving hand snapped over her mouth a bit harshly, silencing her. Erik sat up as her eyes widened in surprise and mild fear. Gazing at her with a fierce intensity and annoyance, he leaned closer to her face, his lips hardened in a tight line.

"Despite what you say, you are more than just decent. I have met far worse people than you, dealt with them, worked for them and loved them. I am a monster, Wren, a hideous carcass who knows beauty and ugliness better than most. And I tell you," he dropped his thick, velvety voice to a mere murmur. His fired blue eyes softened and he released her lips a bit reluctantly. "You are no monster, nor whore, nor even a scandalous woman. As far as I can tell, you are merely lonely and self-debasing to the extremes of the term."

Wren felt her heart calm down from the plummeting trip it had been careening on and her muscles relax. For a few moments she studied his honest face, every crooked line and ridge without disgust. Timidly, she reached up and cupped his cheeks in her palms, her thumbs brushing over harsh flesh and the smooth skin. Her mind could hardly wrap itself around the words he had said yet she felt comfort in it. A small smile broke the wall of her blank grimace.

"Funny, the first kind words in a long time and they happen to be 'lonely' and 'self-debasing'," she bubbled with a laugh, trying hard to push away her hurting doubts. A grin of relief also spread on Erik's face, brightening the frustration he had carried towards her and her self-debasement.

Easing down to rest his head again on her shoulder, he allowed himself to enjoy her fingers digging through his brown hair, tugging out knots he had made in his sleep. A content rumble echoed in his chest cavity as he relaxed, allowing his full weight to comfortably crush her under him.

For a moment a sheet of fear paralyzed her under him, carpeting her in an insane desire to beat at him and run away. After a few moments of internal struggle she continued to play with his hair, dragging her fingers over and around his ears and forehead.

"Erik?" Wren whispered into his ear, her lips brushing his lobe.

"Hmm?"

"You are no monster."

"Thank you, _mademoiselle_. But I am afraid I shall continue to disbelieve you."

Wren stopped her hand and drew it away. His words had not settled with her right. If he could convince her that she was not what she always believed, then so would she. If he wanted to play hardball, she would play.

"Alright, then I am a slut. You lied."

"No, no you are-"

"You are not a monster."

"But-"

"No!" she snapped a bit harshly, her voice taking on a biting tone. Erik tensed and prepared to move away from her, disgruntled that they were fighting again. Wren wrapped his broad shoulders in her pathetic-feeling arms, attempting to prevent escape. Somehow she had to make sense of the hell she was in and his tender wishes to understand. Somehow or another, it has to make sense.

He must have felt her desperation for he froze, neither moving away or coming closer. If he really wanted to get away then there really was no stopping him and they both knew it.

"If you want me to believe you, then you must believe me when I say that you are no monster. Face it, Erik, the only thing that was wrong back in 18-fucking-whenever was that people were superstitious and stupid. There is nothing wrong with you and anyone who thinks otherwise are the monsters," Wren ranted in defense of him. Her breath ran out and she felt her lungs collapse and suck in air. Erik was still for a good few moments, his face turned away as he half crouched over her, her arms flung about him still.

Finally, he looked up at her, his brilliant blue eyes soft but smiling, the shining crystals of color gleaming oddly. A bit unsteadily he leaned forward, resting his weight on one elbow. His other hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her still, as he pressed his lips against her forehead, shaking and gentle. Again he kissed the corner of her eye and her temple, then her cheek, her nose and back again to her forehead. Wren felt a shivery weakness come over her as she enjoyed his attention, taking it as a sign that he finally accepted her words.

After a few moments he sat up all the way, crawling away from her overly-heated form. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his tussled brown hair and looked at the plate of food. Wren also sat up, a mixture of relief and disappointment in her gut. Her own jumbled locks fell in her face as she watched him, a bit wary. He cast her a lopsided grin and grabbed a piece of fruit.

"So, what shall we do today?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Erik? Are you done in there yet?" Wren hollered over the noise of the busy Walmart into the men's dressing rooms. She felt like a complete idiot doing that, especially with the customer service girl there eyeballing her like a sideshow attraction. To be honest, she looked like one herself. God, there was a time in high school when Wren used to dress like that. Thankfully she had grown out of it.

Dyed black hair with purple streaks hung messily over her white face, the bored blue eyes blacked out. Her name tag read 'Brittany' but somehow she had an idea that she went by Phantasma or something. Several piercing dotted the girl's face, sparkling randomly as she chewed her cud of gum. Just like a cow, Wren grumbled internally before hollering at Erik again.

"I cannot get this 'zipper' to work. I need a bit of help," Erik finally replied, his voice muffled and nervous behind the cheap door. It was right there at the front, she could see the top of his hair. Wren restrained a groan at that and looked helplessly about her for a man to help him. There was no one except her and the cow around. Even if there was another guy around, there was no way she was going to ask him to help her 'friend' do up his pants. That was not going to happen, she concluded bitterly.

"I can't come back there. You have to come out," she called back. A barely covered scoff met her ears.

"I am not venturing out in this state. Please come and help me?" he pleaded sweetly, going close enough to the door so that she could see sock-shod feet. A bit panicky of the idea, Wren glanced at the goth girl in hopes that she would deny access.

No such luck. With a slightly perverted smirk, she pointed a black nail at the rooms, cracking her gum annoyingly. Wren struggled with the urge to kill (once again) for that one. Did no one care anymore? Was she really just going to let her go back in the men's changing to do God knows what? Apathy was the new fad and goddamn it, it was annoying.

"Fine, unlock the door," she growled before stalking past her to Erik's room. She flashed her a mildly threatening look to which she offered something of a twisted smile. "Thanks a lot, Brittany."

"Oh, you are welcome," the other replied while smacking her gum more. The black lipstick she wore was running into her mouth with all that chewing and licking of lips. Gross…

Erik had opened the door slightly for her. Apparently, he knew full well that she was going to give in and help. Immediately after entering the forbidden zone, Wren closed the door and risked a glance at him. He had on a nice white business with the tag still on it, hanging open to show the undershirt. It was the only article of clothing she could get him to be agreeable with minus a few t-shirts and a set of tennis shoes. The belt and fly of the jeans were wide open, revealing just the black top fabric of the boxer briefs she had gotten him earlier on in the day.

Swallowing hard, Wren kept her nervous gaze on his face as she leaned against the door. Erik was not comfortable out in public; even a complete stranger would notice that. The moment he had stepped outside with her that morning he had grown sullen and withdrawn from the glances he had earned. It wasn't that others stared excessively, just a curious look once in a while but it seemed enough to anger him and make him want to hide.

"Now, why can't you figure out the pants, Erik? You deduced how my car works within a few minutes and yet you can't learn to work a zipper?" Wren prodded playfully, trying to keep the mood light despite her irritation. It felt so wrong to be in the men's room with a man, as if some insulted deity was preparing to launch a grenade at her for being there.

Erik sighed in dark dejection, staring down his chest at the ill-begotten pants in annoyance. It wasn't that he couldn't figure it out; he just was not in the mood for it. Wren almost wanted to laugh at how much he was pouting but reigned it in. This was all very hard for him, she realized. The scarring upon his face had definitely given him problems in his past and drawn all kinds of uncompassionate attention from others. Wren shivered to think of what those people in the past did to him for his deformity. People were much less accepting and kind of things such as this at that time in history.

"I know how it works. It is stuck or broken," he muttered darkly as he grabbed it once more and tugged in listless frustration. After a moment of watching him struggle, Wren came up to him, keeping her pounding heart at bay on a leash.

With shaky hands, she knocked his fingers away and tested the zipper. Don't think about where your hands are; she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. Only two layers of cloth and there's his…damn it! She told herself not to think about it.

Yanking it down, she managed to dislodge the kink and proceeded to pull it up all the way before buttoning the jeans, the back of her fingers brushing the hard muscle of his lower stomach. Licking her lips, Wren looked up at his still moody gaze and quirked a smile.

"There, no big deal. They fit nicely."

The man only nodded, his blue green eyes still lost in thought. This was insane, Wren decided finally. He was so afraid of everyone's reactions that he couldn't even realize that no one was giving one. Heaving a disbelieving sigh, she reached up and put a hand to his cheek, dipping her head to capture his gaze.

"Hey," she mouthed once he shifted his attention to her. She smiled softly. "It's alright. Has it really been that bad today?"

His lips tightened in suppressed anger and annoyance before shaking his head.

"No, but I cannot stop thinking that at any moment they will panic and run away. I keep having memories of people running or crying in horror," Erik admitted bitterly, his brow furrowing in agonized thought. Wren felt her heart ache at that and realized just how hard it was for him to be out amongst people. For a moment, she felt cruel and cold for not being more sympathizing.

Trying to be soothing to his fears, she buried her own worries and wrapped her arms about his waist to hold him close, her face buried near his neck. After a moment, Erik embraced her in return, shifting his nose in her hair and heaving a small shuddery sigh. This was so much harder than he had imagined it would be and as grateful as he was for her reassurance, it did not help the anxiety and anger.

Shivering a little at the way her hand sifted through the hair at the back of his neck, Erik found more familiarity resurfacing. It was as if thousands of little memories or physical remembrances were coming to him and what it revealed hurt him. There was so little that was truly good about whatever his life had been before; so sparse in fact that he was beginning to crave the amnesia again.

And her face…that face with the beautiful, hateful lips and cold tears flashed so often in the dark behind his eyelids that reality felt more like a slideshow.

"Let's head home soon. I don't like this mood you're in," Wren said before tilting her chin up to look at him. She gave him a little, timid smile. "I'll even cook for you, if you can stomach it."

At her attempt at lightness, Erik forcefully pushed the queasy ache in his heart back and offered a small, fake grin. Relishing her warm, wary arms about him, he considered her offer with a playful gleam in his eye.

"And what would you make for us?"

"Uhh…I can make…ah, coconut curry chicken."

He raised his one eyebrow in suspicious curiosity at the idea but gave in to it. It would be better to contemplate something as inane as that than to remember and dwell on the things that pestered him. At his look, Wren grinned and wiggled away, clearly past the limits of her comfort in his arms.

One day, he found himself hoping, she would be able to stand holding him or some other man for longer than a few moments.

"What is that?" Erik asked abruptly as they drove home only a few hours later, their purchases in the back seat. Wren frowned as she drove, a bit annoyed that he had interrupted her and clearly hadn't been listening. It wasn't anything important but it rather stung that he was once again lost in his mind.

Restraining her huffy instinct, she leaned over the wheel and looked out his window. Coming up on the left was one of a million trails in Oregon, wandering up and weaving through the mountains. There was no placard for this one as there normally was for the tourists. Telling him as much, Erik then narrowed his eyes at the trail and seemed to once more get lost in his thoughts.

"Would you like to go for a quick walk before we go home?" Wren asked him slowly, hoping maybe it would clear the cobwebs. Startled, he looked to her, confusion gleaming dully in his eyes and dancing in the tiny wrinkles that showed up by his mouth and eyes. After a moment, he nodded silently and went back to gazing out the window.

At this point, she was about to scream in utter frustration. The morning had started out so well but as the day progressed he withdrew from her more and more, his lips speaking so much less than his eyes did. He was lost in random, sharp memories, she knew, but trying to be cheerful and drag him from whatever hell there was drained her and made her feel like weeping in helplessness.

Shaking her thoughts free, Wren pulled over gently, her Jeep bouncing once over a small dried stream by the road. Casting her eyes up to the cloudy grey sky in a plea for patience, she glanced over at her guest as she put it in park.

Erik hadn't moved a muscle, in fact she was sure he hadn't even realized they had stopped. He looked as though his mind was lost somewhere in time, lips slack and gaze glazed over. For a moment, she fiddled with her seat belt, wondering how on earth she could make him feel better. In the back of her mind, she wondered when she had taken to caring so much about it.

"Um, Erik? I know you're having a real tough time today but-" she stopped when she realized that he wasn't listening to her. Every ounce of his attention was now devoted to staring at her low playing radio as if it was the spawn of the devil. That look made Wren stop in mid-sentence and listen to the commercial for tickets to a show in Portland.

'In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came-'

She didn't catch all of the softly sung lyric. The woman's voice was silvery and lovely but it only seemed so install such a rage in Erik; so intense that the very air darkened in the vehicle. The very muscles in his face tightened, twisting his expression into one of pure raging pain. His lip curled in some fury and his hands clenched tightly. Wren resisted the mammalian instinct to flee from the frothing glow in his narrowed, enraged eyes.

The commercial ended as quickly as it came on but the damage was done. Her breath caught in her throat and in that second, Erik began tearing at his seatbelt in a furious, desperate frenzy.

Once the damnable thing was off, he was gone. Wren stared in blatant shock and horror as he disappeared in the tree line, his mind tormented by demons she could not see. The dull, muted dinging of the car complaining about its door being open brought her back to her senses. Just as desperately, she wrestled with her belt and turned off the Jeep.

"Erik? Erik!" she called loudly, voice steeped in worry. What had happened then? Was it that random snatch of a song? Did he have another memory?

Wandering in the direction Erik had disappeared to, Wren shivered at the evening chill and the light drizzle that fell like a mist in the blue air. Everything seemed to be soaked in that shade, as if to match the sadness in her heart and the deep agony in his.

After twenty minutes of searching with her arms wrapped about herself, Wren stopped and choked on tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Wiping harshly at them with her sweaters sleeve, she sighed harshly and looked about her. Down the slope she had just climbed and a few tree lines away was the Jeep, alone by the road. Where on earth was he? Why did he run away? Worry and fear ran rampant through her like an icy finger of electricity. What if he was hurt?

A low, murmured sob reached her pricked ears, somewhere to her left. Startled, Wren looked to see nothing but the hardy, dark trunks of the pines. The misty air, the fading blue light and the emptiness of the area frightened her. Was that him or something else? Then she heard it again, this time dragged out by a heated string of growled words. Cautiously, she followed the sound, wincing with every step and every crunch of pine needles under her tennis shoes.

Around an ancient trunk she went and from there the world grew a bit strange in her perception. The very ground rocked under her feet and her vision shook as if she was stumbling violently down a flight of stairs.

In front of her sat Erik on his knees, his head bowed and broad shoulders quaking in a battle of restraint. The sight of his brilliant white shirt, skin and dark hair in the deepening dusk made him as a ghost, shivering just on the edge of reality. From her position all she could see was his trembling back; how was she to know how volatile he was at that moment?

"Erik, thank god I found you. Are you-?" she murmured as she approached, feeling strangely adrift and unattached to her movements. She reached out and touched his tense shoulder, her hand friendly but unaware of what was boiling underneath it.

Erik moved in a violent blur to her gaze and she felt an exploding pain in her head and a riot of lights in her vision as the world rocked again and her legs gave out. The ground felt oddly soft to her nerves as she lay amongst the pine needles and their scent drowned her.

He had hit her…

The pain turned into a deep throbbing that resonated in her skull. The edges of her vision grew dark, rippling like a tide that rose and fell in beat with the agony. She felt trembling cold hands on her face and hurried, panicking words but she couldn't see nor understand. The world went black.

What had he done? How could he have done this to the one person who had shown him unwarranted kindness? These thoughts stung and tormented the man as he sat by Wren, staring through tears at the livid bruise he had caused. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drenched the washcloth again in the bowl of water, fighting the quaking in his long hands. Tenderly, he leaned closer to where she lay and dabbed the cool liquid upon her forehead and cheeks.

Erik was thankful that she was still asleep at this moment. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing her eyes fill with hate quite yet. How could she not hate him after this? After this damage…

Along the left side of her face, a darkening black-blue bruise danced along her cheekbone and eyebrow, swollen and puffy. At least he hadn't shattered the bones with the blind fury which had possessed him.

The green crystals in his eyes darkened at the thought of it in the damp two a.m. air. What a state he had been reduced to; less than an animal in thought and feeling for restraint. Those few words, those deadly, sweet words that had floated over the mechanical winds had stabbed a spike into his heart and driven him mad. It wasn't her voice, he knew, no, that was not the angel's throat but the words were hers. The song had begun chorusing in his skull as he ran, turning into a cacophony of words and screams. All hers…he couldn't handle it.

The silver bell of that voice and the memory of her large brown eyes filling in terrified tears caused cold ones to fall down his scarred face. Look at what I have done, he cried inside for himself and for whatever god listened to our tragedies. Look at her, see the thing that I have done?

When the fingers touched him, he hadn't even realized that it was her or that is was just a touch not a ghost of a memory. The pounding serenade of beautiful agonies in his brain drowned reason out and when the touch fell upon him, he lashed out at it instinctively as he had with every tree he had run against and anything that had come to his grasp. There was still dirt under his fingernails from when he had fallen to his knees and grasped at the earth in confused pain. Only when he heard her cry out and fall to the earthen floor did he realize what he had swung at.

The fine tremor in his fingers grew worse as he tenderly dabbed Wren's neck and collar, trying to fight the ashamed tears that burned him. He did not know if he could handle what was to come. Perhaps he had better just leave once she was awake and coherent. Or perhaps while she was still asleep and unaware.

A quiet murmur of waking breath dragged his attention back to her weakly shifting eyelids and the way her mouth pressed in pain before consciousness ever graced her. With bated breath, Erik waited as her lashes fluttered, barely opening to life.

Wren opened her glazed brown eyes and stared at the ceiling, her chest barely moving as she breathed. She didn't see anyone in this dumb limbo she had awoken in, just the rotten milk color of the roof. Why didn't she paint this with a better color? Her mind was following the train of thought languidly, pondering the different shades blearily. Red, orange, green, yellow, blue…

Blue; like the very air in those ancient trees that stood so silently. The earth had soaked up so much of that deep and sad color. Then she remembered in a sudden rush. Erik…a ghost in white that sobbed…a firework of pain and shooting lights…

Every muscle in Erik's body tensed as the woman's sore and tired gaze slid to him, the glaze upon them never leaving, only reflecting the faded grey from the yellow hall light.

For several breathless moments, Wren looked at him, just looked with no expression. Her gaze studied the haggard lines of his face, the tightness of his generally brilliant eyes and the sadness tucked in the corners of his lips. The deep purple blue of her bruise sullied her. She watched and absorbed the way his baby fine hair fell on his brow as he lowered his damaged gaze from her in shame. Tiny tears were escaping him, streaking like drops of silver over the ridges and scarring of his deformity.

Never before had she thought him more pitiful and ugly than at that moment. There was a sweetness in him that she hadn't anticipated; seeing how he was after the pain. It was like seeing a strange reflection of herself after past temporary lovers left her in cold sheets.

There was no anger in her for the hit just a bare hurt confusion. Even that didn't bother her much. He had appeared to be in such agony when she had come upon him that it did not surprise her that he had struck out. She just silently watched the way he cried with one eye barely seeing and wondered that he cried over her. Perhaps this was shock or perhaps her brain had been damaged but it didn't matter. She didn't want to feel anything foul towards him.

Finally, Wren attempted to open her mouth and the pain returned to her numb body. The muscles in her jaw and temple strained and throbbed at the stretch and she swallowed a cry. A small whimper escaped her and he flinched as if she had stabbed him. After another try, she learned to tolerate the pain.

"Don't worry; I've been hit before," she whispered lowly. Whether she meant it in comfort or just to injure him, she couldn't be sure but he closed and sighed shakily as if his beating heart was within her nails. Falling to silence, she watched him in the gloom, his face twitching in an effort not to break down again.

"Wren, I…" Erik murmured in despair as he finally looked up to her gaze. He fell silent again at the blank stare she held, her mind lost behind her eyes. The corners of his mouth turned again and he licked his dry lips. "I-I had not meant to..."

"I know," she replied dully. No smile nor frown lit up her features. Erik stared at her in broken, mute shock. She just accepted it, no fight, no blame towards him for her bruised flesh? No, this was not right. She should hate him for what he did. He hated himself for what he had done to her.

His amazement deepened as she held out a hand from where is rested at her side on the blanket, the fingers trembling. Still dumb at her response, Erik took it in both of his cold ones and brought her flesh to his mouth. Kissing the back of her hand and the tips of her fingers, he relished the warmth of it and that she wasn't afraid of the attention. Closing his eyes, he put his forehead to her palm and sighed.

Wren let him rest against her hand, enjoying how his brow creased against her skin and how his lips felt on her skin. This numb feeling of vague detachment would not leave her but in its vertigo she felt fine.

Perhaps the hurt would happen tomorrow or the next day or maybe never. Men had hit her before and a resentment had boiled in her soul but this…this was different. Why she chose not to beat at him and scream hatred was a mystery to her but she was not going to ponder the sanctuary it offered.

Shifting her fingers against his bow, she gathered his attention again. Softly, Wren tried to smile, fighting the burning pain it caused. Erik's lips pressed at the sight of her forcing that smile, crinkling the horrid purpled skin at her eye in the effort. He gave her a look of loving disbelief, one hand squeezing her free one now. For a moment, they only looked at one another, studying the other in mute appreciation.

Suddenly, tears gathered in Wren's eyes, startling the both of them and for once she didn't fight it. He felt his previously rising heart sink at the sight of them trailing down her bruised face.

"She hurt you really badly this time, didn't she?" she murmured softly, her voice cracking no matter how detached she was. A vice clamped on Erik's chest and he lowered his head from her view. Silently, she waited for him to collect himself and nod in response, lacking a voice with which to reply.

Not trusting herself to sit up, Wren held out her arms for him despite how weak and shaky she felt. He hesitated and considered how much he felt that he did not deserve to be forgiven. At the same time, he longed so desperately for that very thing. In the end he gave into the strong want and felt that perhaps he had suffered enough guilt of the kind.

Gently and carefully, Erik shifted closer and fell into her arms halfway, his own sneaking under her to hold her closer. The woman immediately began threading her hands soothingly through his hair, running her nails over his twisted skin and kissing the top of his head softly. Never before had she felt so warm and comforting to him, never before had she so willingly held and touched him. Where did this come from, he wondered? What had triggered this reaction? It was beyond their understanding but it was something they would not question till daybreak.

Finding his tears dried up, Erik sat up enough in her grasp to look down upon her. Despite the livid purplish bruising and the wild, dirty state of her red-brown hair, he found that he couldn't remember anyone looking so beautiful to him. Even though they both needed a shower and there were dirt smudges from where she fell all over her, but he found her glowing.

Wren felt none of the old panic rising in her at the sensation of his weight pressing upon her chest, thank God, perhaps it was gone for good. She didn't want it. Not with this strange man that had crashed landed into her life and turned it upside down in so short of a time. Was it alright that she felt this way so soon? Did it matter, really?

When he began to kiss her cheek and brow, lips savoring the damage beneath, she closed her eyes at the sensation and turned her face to receive more.

His lips touched hers.

It was brief but as soon as he lifted away she opened her eyes to find him startled. He hadn't meant to kiss her on the mouth; she had turned into it. Suddenly unsure, they eyed one another, as if to see in the others reactions that it was alright. Slowly, so she could pull away, Erik timidly kissed her again.

At the light grazing of his tempting lips upon hers, Wren shivered and felt her heart beat harder in tune with the throbbing in her face. It hurt but she kissed him back more firmly, her breath caught somewhere between her sanity and reasoning. The muscles ached but it made it sweeter than his mouth already felt.

There was no hot fire surging through them, no burning passion that would scour their souls, as Wren half expected; just a soft, welcoming sensation against the planes of her lips. It was simple and yet it held more meaning that any other kiss she had yet.

After a moment, Erik lifted away from her touch, his mouth brushing hers as his warm breath blew over her. Eyes closed, he rested his brow to her forehead, cherishing the moment and the relief it gave.

None of it made sense to either of them but at that moment, in the dark of early morn, it didn't need to.


	7. Chapter 7

You can't really see the sun rise here, Wren realized tiredly as she sat on the stairs leading up to the apartment. Everything just becomes a lighter shade of grey and green, like a time-faded picture. The world was sodden with clammy mist off the ocean and not a soul moved in the dawn, only a lonely bird or two.

Rest never came that night for either of them. The pain in her face had dulled to a roaring ache that wouldn't subside. Sitting out in the cold air made the muscles feel cramped and made it worse but the mist felt amazing on her hot skin.

A sigh escaped her and she reached up to play with her nose ring. It was a bit tender, being on the side that was hit. What on earth was she going to do about all of this? What was she going to say when he awoke? For a few moments, she wondered whether or not she truly minded his embrace the night before. It did not feel wrong unlike the times before. It felt the exact opposite and that did worry her a bit.

The door opened behind her and she heard his light steps on the concrete, barefoot like her, as he sat down to join her. Wren didn't look at Erik as he settled on the step, his very being seeming tense and unsure. She knew why; they needed to talk and he knew it too.

A scent reached her nose and she looked to see him gingerly holding out a mug of coffee to her. He looked wary but kept a smile on his lips, as if trying not to make the situation awkward. With difficulty, she smiled and accepted it, loving the way it burned her fingertips.

"Thanks, you read my mind."

Erik gave her a small, fleeting smile, his mouth turning mischievously at the end.

"The mental link has been established. You're mine now," he stated in what would have been a deadly tone. Wren gave him an arch look over the rim of her mug. After swallowing a gulp of the scalding stuff, she turned to the misty forest line and the steel grey sky.

"Erik," she started abruptly, sensing him brace for her words. "I want to talk to you about last night."

She paused, knowing that he was growing sad and furious with himself again about her bruising.

"I'm talking about the…kissing," she elaborated, a bit embarrassed. Taking a breath she found herself now lost on how to begin expressing what it was she felt. Erik waited as patiently as he could for a few moments, watching her as her brow creased in soft wonderment.

"Do you regret it already?" he asked sullenly, vainly trying to hide it under an honest sounding inquiry. Slowly, she shook her head, a small frown now replacing her placid look.

"I don't and that's the weird part that I want to talk to you about. I have never kissed or done anything with a guy before without wanting them to go away right after. I always hated them once it was over but with you, I don't. I guess I'm just scared of it," she admitted slowly, forcing herself to expose what it was that bothered her right off the bat. "You know that I am no virgin but this is really new to me."

Erik didn't interrupt or say anything in response, feeling that there was something more she had to say. Wren took another gulp of coffee before forcing it out like a barbed piece of tin can.

"I do care about you a lot. But I want to know where we-where you stand."

"Where 'we' stand?"

"Well, you…you are very confusing to me, okay?" she smiled a bit wryly. "From the moment I brought you home like a little half-drowned puppy, you've been flirting."

Erik raised his eyebrow at her, a slightly sadistic and amused smirk on his lips. Reaching out, he stole her coffee and took a sip.

"Flirting? How so?" he played off as unaware and shocked.

"Don't be cute, Erik," she reprimanded half seriously. "You took every chance to fluster me with that annoyingly pretty little smile of yours. Why?"

At that, the humor went out of the man's face and he looked out across the wet parking lot and the sleepily stirring world. Wren wondered if she pushed it a little too far but then he sighed and laugh lowly as a small dry grin stole his features.

"Why? I suppose it was half due to that no one had ever treated me as a man. I wanted to see how far I could go with courting as a man with a woman. I was successful, non?"

Wren rolled her eyes but didn't deny it at all.

"And the other half?"

Erik turned to look at her fully, his eyes a blue-grey in the morning light as he studied her intently. Wren was glad to notice that her nervous shifty syndrome was gone to an extent under his gaze. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, a silly smile growing on him at the sight of her trashed state.

"Attraction to you."

Wren gaped at him in a state of mild surprise before getting a hold on herself. She snorted a laugh before taking back her coffee from his warm grip.

"Attracted to me? You've got to be kidding me," she paused to think of something. "That or you've been lying to me the whole time and are blind."

"I am not 'kidding' you or blind. I found you to be and still find you to be very attractive in your way," he replied firmly, not appreciating how she talked about herself. It was infuriating how often she did it. Wren rolled her eyes again and yawned sleepily.

"'Special' is what you're trying to say, I think."

"Well, yes, you are very special."

"Erik," she paused to stifle a laugh at his innocent meaning statement. "Nowadays, 'special' isn't a good thing. It generally means that I'm challenged in some aspect."

He frowned at her for that one before contemplating a different terminology and strategy. Nonchalantly, he took her coffee away and set it by them. She was going to need a lesson, he could tell.

"You are a wonderful woman, Wren, different perhaps, but wonderful."

She snorted at that again. This time, Erik wasn't going to let her go so easily for the self-depreciating humor. Swiftly he stood up and went down a step to stand in front of her. Leaning down gruffly, he grasped her around the arms and stood her up, ignoring her startled statement of 'what the hell?'.

Stunned, Wren barely even fought as the man leaned down and hefted her up onto his shoulder and started up the stairs. Finally, it clicked in that she had just been manhandled.

"Erik! What the actual fuck? Put me down right now!" she hissed in indignant fury, remembering at the last second that it was five-forty in the morning. In reply, he merely reached up and smacked her smartly on the bottom. An outraged yelp escaped her and she straightened enough to turn about on his shoulder.

"I cannot believe you just- Ah!" she cried out as he hefted her further back, bent over on his broad shoulder. A wicked grin was on Erik's face although she couldn't see it. Smacking her rear had been more fun than he had anticipated.

Annoyed and embarrassed that she was being handled this way, she tried kicking as he paused on the landing to open the door. Again he thwarted her by grasping her legs a little tighter.

"Alright, hombre. I'm going to count to three and you'd better put me down," she growled as hotly and threateningly as she could. Erik seemed to just ignore her as he walked in. Whether or not he was smiling, she couldn't tell since her hair obliterated her sight as it hung about her face. "One, two, thr-Ah!"

Again he smacked her tartly, his fingers stinging her just enough. Closing the front door, he at least made sure not to catch her hair in the jamb. Taking up another tactic, Wren beat at his lower back with her fists but he just spanked her again as he headed to the bedroom, turning off lights as he went.

"I will let you down but first you have to do something for me," Erik finally said as he walked up to her bed, her upside down on his shoulder. Wren considered the possibility of getting down without doing what he wanted and found the chances rather slim. Her face was starting to feel hot and heavy.

"Okay, what? Make it quick; all the bloods going into my head."

"Tell me you are beautiful," he demanded seriously, no laugh in his tone this time despite the hilarity of the situation. Wren paused at the incredibly silly thing he wanted her to admit and sighed in defeat.

"Fine, you are beautiful. Can I come down now?" she whined.

SMACK!

"Holy fuck, Erik! Would you-" her angry, scathing words were cut off as he suddenly lugged her off his shoulder like so much luggage and onto the bed. Bouncing for a second amongst the blankets on her ass, Wren got up on her elbows to glare at him for the stinging indignity. With a strange coolness, Erik came up to the bed and rested a knee upon it.

The anger fizzed right out of her as he glared at her intently, no smile tainting his eyes or lips. Oh, boy, she made him real mad this time.

"You do not believe that you are beautiful?" he asked quietly, a low growl under his tone. Wren shivered at that but pressed her mouth in silence. She wasn't playing this game. When she didn't answer, a slightly frightening grin came over him and he crawled towards her. Resisting the sudden urge to scramble away, she watched with wide eyes as he approached.

"Then I will show you just how beautiful I think you are."

The nerves in her very flesh started right out of her skin as his fingers brushed her sock-clad foot. Sitting perfectly still, the woman watched as he crawled closer, a predatory smile on his tempting lips. His knees balanced him perfectly on either sides of her own, his arms supporting him as he leaned dangerously close to her.

Wren denied the longing in her skull to run away as his lips brushed hers, tantalizing and slow. Shuddering at the light sensation, she sighed shakily and locked her lips once he lifted away. The touches continued softly along her jaw, the lips kissing tenderly like a feather. The old nervousness suddenly crashed upon her but as it did it melded into something different. This wasn't merely seduction, she realized as his teeth teased her ear, this was worship.

Erik traveled the application of his careful teeth to the skin of her neck as a large hand gently laid against her belly. He felt her quiver under his touches and wondered if it was from his attentions or from fear. Perhaps both, he mused as he pressed her to lie down. Being mindful not to crush the woman with his weight and presence, Erik felt his own stomach clench in timid nervousness. He did not think that he had ever done any of this before. There were no memories. But it was so enjoyable, feeling this and tasting the slight sweat on her skin.

Brushing a long hand through the tangled mess of red hair, the man buried his nose next to her ear and sighed in unrestrained appreciation of her. He was almost glad that Wren was too petrified to move; she wasn't resisting and that was a major improvement. Perhaps she was growing past her fear of men; he prayed it was so.

A shivery convulsion fled fluently down Wren's form as a hot, wet tongue swirled over a tender spot on her neck. Unwittingly, her hips jerked up to him in pleasure and animal want, barely brushing him and her hands jumped to clasp his forearms. Erik cast a smirking glance at her reaction as he trailed the attention down to her collarbone, nudging just inside her t-shirt.

Wren reached up shakily to brush his sifting brown hair from his brow. Despite the fact that she knew she should be fighting him, she wanted to see his face as he treasured her so called beauty. She wanted to believe him in the deepest recesses of her denying soul but she needed to see it in his eyes.

Gently but quickly, Erik reached up and grasped her wrists, leaning on his elbows. With a glowing, heated look from his lowered eyes, the man firmly pushed her arms back against the blankets in a prison of soft down, fingers lacing with hers. As he did so, he lowered to insinuate tightly to her chest, belly to belly, lips to lips.

A ragged moan escaped Wren at the contact and she bit his lip, almost ashamed at how much she enjoyed the feeling. With that fluid moment he had shifted past the elusive cradle of her thighs and now rested against her in a way no man had in years.

The sound made Erik pause and shiver at the sheer eroticism of it. Was he truly able to make her cry out such a delicious thing? The very idea stirred him in a way he never felt before. No memories surfaced in him at this meeting of clothed flesh. It brought him relief; this was all Wren's. The angel never would have dared to be with him as she was.

"Erik…" the woman under him murmured in a tone he had never heard before. Almost afraid, he raised up a bit to look down at her. Before he would move away or react, her lips were hot and urgent against his, all desperation and despair breaking free in a flood of caresses. Startled into stillness, he let her hands slip free from his and race over his arms. Ardently, her cool palms pressed to his scarred cheek and to his neck, fingers trembling finely.

What a picture they made, Wren thought dazedly through her desire; a lonely disfigured man kissing a love bruised woman, hidden from the world.

At the gentle touch of her tongue to his lips, Erik timidly allowed her in. This wasn't going exactly as he had planned. In his mind's eye, he had seen himself kissing and testing her newly pressed boundaries and nothing more.

Never had he imagined that Wren would open so passionately, blooming like a wild red flower to his attentions. She chased his tongue and rubbed against him passionately as if her life depended upon it. Now it was he that was still and wary on the bed.

A heavy low moan whispered forth from him as her tongue stroked his fiercely, sliding and exploring as her hands did the same thing over his face and scalp. Giving into her attentions and letting go of his reservations, Erik let the sensations overwhelm him. This moment was too exquisite to cloud with thoughts.

After an awkward moment, he learned to match her rhythm and battled her for dominance. Taking a further press at her invisible walls, he slid his hands down her clothed sides. Fingers seeking, he slipped them under her shirt and clasped the curve of her waist, treasuring the feel of soft skin.

Whether or not his braveness won it, neither of them would ever know but her legs found themselves about his slim hips in supplication.

The moment their bodies shifted together in just the right and wrong way, they froze. Limbs entangled and breaths entwined, they parted just enough to look long and deep at each other in wonderment. What insanity was this? What possession had taken their reservations? And what reason suddenly slipped into their fired souls and stopped them?

Without a word, Erik felt what she thought and nestled against her neck, fingers reaching out and folding with hers, palm to palm in a kiss. Gently, Wren's legs lowered to rest tangled with his, her heart beating slow and easy.

Through the curtains, the world grew brighter and people stirred to life, unaware of the two lives in the dark. In the tumbled blankets, they clung together and drifted into a comforted sleep, praying for the day they could continue what had accidentally begun in the mist of early morning.

"I still do not understand how this is considered music," Erik grumbled as he dislodged another c.d. from the player. Sitting on the floor of the living room, he sat surrounded by an army of disks. For the past two hours he had been clicking through songs from different albums. There were quite a few that he liked but many that he simply crinkled his nose at.

Wren came in from the kitchen, a toaster strudel in hand. The bruising along her eye socket had faded to a light brown yellow and was almost gone. There were questions at work and school. She gave the excuse of getting in a fight with another woman over a near traffic accident. That seemed to inspire some unexpected respect and she felt somewhat guilty.

"Well, I'm sorry that modern music is not to your taste. Try the one labeled John Cale. He is a good one," she recommended through a bite of food. Dutifully, Erik picked it up and popped it in. He had learned how to use objects around the house fairly easily. In fact, he had learned how to drive her Jeep just by watching her, she discovered. It had explained how they had gotten home that one night.

A slow, soulful piano came on, mourning a tune before the voice followed. Erik tuned in to this one more, finding it more palatable than the others.

"Better?" Wren asked as she finished off her strudel and sat on the newly fixed couch. It took a while but Erik had managed to cut out the burned part and sow on a replacement patch. Wren had no idea that he was so crafty.

"Much better. I was going to weep for humanity if all music had died," he said quite seriously as he turned to face the woman. Her hair was a wild mess from sleep and her lips looked puffy. A small shiver raced through Erik from looking at them and remembering the night before where once again they had kissed passionately. It had been two weeks since that first time and it seemed so much better and so much worse at the same time. "What song is this?"

"Hallelujah. It's actually one of my favorites."

'_I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?  
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall, the major lift  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah_.'

As the music played on in a soft ballad, they sat in silence, considering one another. It had grown so much easier to sit in his scrutiny, Wren realized. The gleaming grey-blue of his eyes made her insides squirm still in a very different way than before. She had almost given in last night to her urges. Almost let his hand continue on past tenderly brushing the underside of her breast. Why she had not was almost beyond her.

'_Your faith was strong, but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you  
She tied you  
To a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah  
Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah.'_

It took a while but she figured herself out. She was afraid that the afterwards will be just like the others. She was terrified that he would just lose interest and leave her behind. In all honesty, she knew it was irrational. Erik was not and had never been like the other men in the world. She truly believed that he would not do what she was afraid of but her gut fears were not as convinced.

'_Maybe there's a God above, all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who out drew you  
And it's not a cry you can hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

Hallelujah  
Hallelujah.'

And oh, did Wren want him. There was no denying the warmth she felt between her thighs when she looked upon him now. Even now with him sitting near her feet on the floor, gazing up at her with the grey morning light filtering in through the painted glass. It had been growing since that first kiss. With each day and each step in comfort with one another, she wanted him more and more. Having the opportunity to kiss and touch was too tempting and it all felt like a slow moving crescendo. Thank god it was the weekend; she could take all day with him if she wanted. Would he reject her? Was it too soon?

"Wren, _ma cher_?" his voice interrupted her humid thoughts. She jumped a little and smiled to cover her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I was just thinking," she admitted before holding her arms out to him. Immediately, he got up on his knees to shuffle forward into her grasp. Sitting up on the edge of the couch, Wren let her pajama clad legs fall open to allow him close to her, hips against hers. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply the scent of her shampoo.

'_Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

Hallelujah.'

"What were you thinking about?" Erik asked lowly, his lips moving against her sensitive skin before kissing there. A small sound caught in her throat and she sighed longingly. The song clicked over to a slow, sad tune as she ran her hands down his sides, over the white button up he wore. She felt him shiver and press closer to her. Encouraged, she trailed her fingers around the hem of his slacks, nails catching on his belt. That stilled him and she smiled a little. Perhaps a direct tactic was best for this. Butterflies threatened to break her from the inside though.

"This," she replied softly before gathering her courage. Reaching down, she clasped him through his pants, relieved to find him half hard already. So he was at least a bit interested. A violent shudder ran through him and his teeth nipped her neck warningly. "You. I was thinking of you and what I want to do to you."

Her low voice sent his mind reeling as she said such wanton things. It shook him for sure, especially with her fingers playing over his increasing hardness firmly. A bit overwhelmed, Erik leaned back from her hot embrace and blew a shaky sigh. Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his rampant emotions and the tightness he felt in his groin. Thankfully, she kept her distance and remained quiet as he sorted himself out.

"I'm sorry. I just…I wanted to-" Wren's voice finally came, faltering and unsure. Surely, she thought he was upset. Erik opened his eyes and locked her in his gaze with a smile. She looked a bit pale, despite the flush on her cheeks from touching him. The red in her hair stood out brilliantly next to those brown eyes and reddened lips.

Realizing her discomfort, Erik grasped her hands in his and lifted them up for a kiss. Cherishing each knuckle with his lips, he kept his eyes on hers. She wanted to brush his thick brown hair back from his brow. Wanted to twist her fingers in it as he buried inside her. She flushed a deeper shade of red and her throat constricted.

"I know what you want," Erik finally replied, his tone simmering. "I cannot deny that I want this as well. I have been waiting for you to want me since the night we first kissed."

The seed of desire in her belly seemed to have found new root, clasping her deeper in its clawed grip. She waited for the go ahead however. From what she had gathered, he had not done these sort of things before.

"I want to know…will you regret it? I do not want you to hate me," Erik asked slowly, his tone soft yet serious. Wren sat a bit shocked by his question, wondering how he picked that out of her mind. After a moment, she freed her hands from his to touch his scarred cheek, thumb brushing over the damaged flesh.

"I could never hate you. I want you, every bit of you," she replied in a shaking voice before leaning forward and planting a trembling kiss on his brow. Erik breathed a laugh through his nose before shifting to bring their eyes level, hands resting on her thighs now.

"Show me."


	8. Chapter 8

Warning: Graphic sex scene in this chapter. Might write another for next chapter depending on reviews. They're rather fun to write.

It almost sounded like a demand with how low he growled that out before brushing his lips across hers. At the touch, something snapped in Wren's sanity and she grasped him by the hair and crushed their mouths together a bit violently.

Startled once more by her passion, Erik gave a groan at the feel of her prodding tongue playing with his. She was almost vicious is her assault, teeth biting his lower lip and fingers sweeping over his skull lovingly. A fine tremor developed in his knees as he knelt there between her legs. Giving in to the tidal wave of lust from the woman in his arms, he pressed close to her, hips to hips. Immediately, she ground against him, causing him to gasp and escape her lips for a moment.

Slightly desperate hands grasped onto her hips as she moved against him, neither helping nor hindering. Fingers dug in as she leaned back, arms wrapped about his neck and guiding him forward. Slumped against the cushions of the couch, Wren let her head fall back as hot, needy lips wandered down her throat to her collarbone. The music kept playing but she could not understand any of the words. The whole world felt like a blur as hands crept up her shirt, trailing over her quivering belly.

No longer timid or worried about upsetting her with his desires, Erik freed himself from her enough to look down at the exposed stretch of skin under his hands. A slight sweat glistened on his forehead, making his scars look soft and shining. Wren laid still and allowed him freedom to his wishes, panting slightly and overheated.

A bit roughly, Erik pulled her shirt to her ribs, lips coming down to taste the flesh offering. She squirmed as his hot tongue lapped and pressed against her, teeth occasionally biting down. The fingers danced up, crumpling her shirt up further as they explored. Suddenly, Wren was glad that she had just woken up and hadn't bothered with a bra. As the tips of his appendages brushed against the under swelling of her breasts, the woman arched and sighed.

Taking a deep breath for courage, he slid his hands up to cup her firmly. An exulted gasp came from her and her hands found their way back to his hair. Carefully uncovering her all the way, he moved her shirt above her chest, eyes taking in the sight he had been waiting for. Fairly large breasts that were not quite perky lay exposed to him, the dark pink of her hardened nipples demanding attention. A bit more gently, Erik palmed them, letting his fingers roll around her nubs.

A low moan sighed from Wren as she pressed her head back, chest rising to his touch. Keeping a firm clasp, he leaned over her enough to kiss her sternum, between her breasts. Trailing the kiss to one side, he flicked his tongue out to tease a pink nipple beside his thumb. Again he was awarded with her pleased sounds and her legs came up to wrap about his waist loosely. Continuing his ministrations, Erik suckled on the bud, swirling the tip of his torturous instrument over it.

Wren wasn't sure how long she could take this exquisite teasing. As he turned to lavish the same attention on the other side, his hand moved down her belly. More distracted by his tongue and teeth on her breast, Wren was not expecting his next move. Long, talented fingers slid under her bottoms to cup her over her panties.

Jolting from the touch, she curled up and grasped his face, pulling Erik to her lips again. A smile tainted his lips as she roughly plumbed his mouth and rubbed herself into his hand. She was responding and opening so wildly to his attention. After a moment of wet kissing, he grew bold again and shifted to tease his fingers into the side of her underwear, pulling it out of the way.

Another moan and her fingers tightened in his hair. Timid now with the heat of her only centimeters away, he slowed down the kiss they shared and brushed the tips of his blunt fingers over her. The touch sent a wildfire through her nerves and she arched again, begging. A little more firmly he ran them up the wet, slick folds, a bolt of arousal screaming down his form. She was so slippery that her flesh felt like silk as he probed curiously. Again and again she twitched at the touches, trying frantically not to rip everything off then and there.

When he slipped a finger down and into her tight opening, Wren panted into his lips before pulling away.

"Bedroom. Now," she demanded breathily, voice cracked and thick with want. Nodding mutely, Erik got to his feet, fingers wet as they slipped away. On shaking legs, Wren stood as well, immediately grabbing onto him and engaging his mouth once more. Clumsily, they navigated towards her room, stepping on several disks and not caring. It took longer than anticipated. Taking turns they pressed the other to the walls and plundered their willing forms.

A haze enveloped Wren's mind as they finally made it to her bedroom. Erik backed her in, hands delved down the back of her pajama bottoms and grasping her bottom firmly. His large, strong fingers seemed to burn as he kneaded the flesh smoothly. He released her as the back of her knees bumped into the bedframe. Lifting her onto the mattress, he followed right behind, climbing over her.

Shaking hands undid the buttons on his shirt as he gingerly tried to pull her bottoms down. Wren hesitated before lifting up enough to allow them off. His shirt followed right after, revealing the soft movement of muscle under his slightly damp skin. Puffing a breath of air, he continued disrobing her until nothing stood in the way.

For a moment, he laid propped up on an elbow at her side, taking in the sight of her. Long, mussed locks of acorn brown and autumn red gleamed against the pale flesh of her shoulders and breasts. Her bosom heaved as she panted with flushed cheeks and quivering thighs.

Erik let his gaze wander down over her exposed skin, taking in every tiny mole and imperfection. She was so soft, he reveled, as his hand traveled over her hip and brushed up her leg. A shiver visibly ran through her as he brushed his fingers over the junction of her thighs. For a moment, she was grateful that she had hygiene issues with body hair. Every nude inch of her was being played with by his talented touches and fire ran through her form.

After a moment, Erik shifted up and grasped her knee, separating her legs gently. As he rested down between them, kissing the inside of her hip, she realized what he was doing and moaned expectantly.

Wren could feel his burning eyes watching his fingers as he continued rubbing her folds slowly and firmly. A fleeting embarrassment stole into her but she let it pass. There was no need for it now. So distracted with thought was she that the first curious probe of his wet tongue sent her into shock.

Crying out, she clenched her fists in the blanket under her and bucked slightly. Erik smiled at her reaction before repeating the motion, suckling near the end. Hips raised violently again and he moved to grab hold of her thighs to keep her still. With a sigh, he delved his tongue deeper, dragging and licking up the folds. She moaned rather loudly and squirmed, her restless hands coming back to his hair. Her fingers tightened when he hit a certain spot near the top and he focused on that.

It seemed like eternity to Wren as he tasted and groaned into her, driving her mad with that tongue of his. Heart pounding wildly, she gazed down at him and soaked up the erotic sight of him pleasuring her. It created a throbbing in her that grew almost painful, threatening to burst.

The green flecked, lusting and fiery eyes looked up at her, taking even more of her breath away. Keeping their gaze, his lips clamped on her hidden nub and sucked, causing the most violent reaction of all. Unable to take any more torture, Wren jerked herself away and tried pulling him up to level with her. Startled, Erik was about to ask if he did something wrong but her mouth crashed upon his hungrily and her hands grasped his belt loops tightly.

"Please…please, I need you now," the woman begged harshly before her hands made quick work of his belt. Erik swallowed before helping, kicking them off along with his boxers. For a brief moment, Wren stared at his exposed length in hungry surprise. He was a bit bigger than she thought. Feeling him become insecure, she leaned up and tasted herself on his lips once more. Reaching down, she gently caressed his hot, iron hard cock, fingers barely wrapping about it. He felt soft ask heated velvet in her grasp, pulsing and calling out to her.

A broken moan came from his golden throat and he pressed up into her palm. Warm fluid trickled out from his tip onto her digits as they slid up and down. His eyes clenched shut at the sensation and shuddered. Afraid of ending there before they got started, he moved out of the grasp to press her back into the blankets.

Wren complied easily, lying back and letting her legs fall open for him. Shakily, Erik rested against her, lips seeking purchase on hers as he rubbed his length against her wet folds. Gasping, she raised up and pressed back, unable not to. He throbbed and they both let out a moan. Once more, he lifted onto his elbows and gazed down at her in the morning light. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered like amber glass from lust. Her roughened lips trembled as she panted and stared up at him. A small smile passed between them as she reached down to position him against her.

"Love me, Erik," Wren whispered heatedly before pressing down upon him a bit. The head of his cock slipped in and he groaned. His hand slipped under her thigh, holding her open for him. Locking eyes with her, Erik pressed forward into her tight heat. Again, a shared cry rocked through them as he pushed deep, as far as he could go.

He had to stay still for a moment to contain himself. He wanted this to be memorable for both of them and did not want to finish prematurely. Gathering his breath, he pulled out to the tip before pressing back inside firmly. She moaned as her hands came to rest on his lower back, body moving up as he thrust determinedly inside of her.

No nagging memories came to bother him in this euphoric moment. It completed the happiness, knowing that this was uniquely theirs and not an echo of a memory.

Unable to control it for much longer, he lifted her up to fit into the curvature of his body snuggly. Rocking swiftly and furiously, Erik grunted at the tingling fire in his spinal column as her nails dug into his sides.

His name crumbled forth from her lips as she rose feebly into his thrusts. Her breasts bounced in rhythm to his movements and her eyes closed at the sensation of being filled so well. Unable to watch her in all of her sensual beauty at that moment, Erik shifted closer and changed angle as he captured her lips in a searing kiss.

Immediately, her fingers dug into his hair and she responded desperately. In between breaths and tongue clashing, she moaned into his lips, growing louder as he sped up. A numbed tingling was stealing into his limbs at how much pleasure was rocketing through him and he had to concentrate to not lose it then.

Suddenly, he sat up, wrapping his arms about her to stay within as he settled her on his lap. Wild red hair fell over her face and shoulder as she slid back down his cock, thighs spread wide on him. Hands grasped his shoulders as she rocked with him deep inside. His hands clutched her hips, helping her movements and thrusting upwards into her.

Wren's insides felt like a molten star encased in flesh as he burned her passionately. She let her head fall back to gaze upon the ceiling as his lips stole her nipple into his mouth. This was too much; the fullness he created, the heated pleasure and his clever tongue was too much. It felt like she would die from the soaring ecstasy in her frame.

One of his hands came up to cup her sweaty cheek, turning her to look at him. The blue of his eyes was dark and lusting, clouded by his desire. Moisture glistened on his brow and above his upper lip as his pace became frantic within her. A broken look of pure, unbelieving love stained his expression, his lips falling open as his end came upon him. Deep inside her, Wren felt him swell and his hips stutter helplessly.

Eager to bring this dance of skin and heat to a crescendo, she clung close to him, one hand on the back of his damp neck and the other clasping his shoulder. Panting, she leaned to his ear and suckled the lobe into her mouth, moaning as she did so. That did it for him.

Bucking up with a low cracked cry, Erik rocked into her warmth as stars danced behind his eyelids and he throbbed exquisitely. Waves of fire seemed to roll through him as she clenched about him. His own contractions and the continual rocking pushed her over the edge as she moved above him. Giving a cry of her own, Wren felt her whole body tighten in joy, taking him deeper in while he remained hard.

"Ooh…oh, god, Erik," she sighed weakly as she began to relax again. Sweat clung on them and where their skin touched, overheating their flesh. Collapsing in a tired heap on his lap, she slung her arms about his shoulders, stroking his back comfortingly. Erik's lips pressed exhausted kisses to her neck and up her cheek as he held her back, slight tears in his eyes.

Whining a bit in her throat, Wren clasped on tightly and fell back to the pillows, pulling him down on top of her. With a chuckle at her antics, he snuggled into her collarbone and snuck his arms around her. Hot fingers dragged over his brow and along his scarred face, sleepy and slow. Silence now reigned where their lustful cries had once been, weighing comfortingly. In the grey light, the two lovers lay entwined still, one buried inside the other.

As the quiet wore on, Erik lay with his cheek against her chest, watching her breasts rise and fall with her tired breathing. Under his ear, her heart thudded loudly and he felt tears come upon him. Unbidden they came and dripped silently down the side of his eyes to her skin. At first she did not notice but eventually she felt the cold wetness. At first, she thought he had passed out from the lovemaking and was drooling.

Lifting her head, Wren saw that it was tears, not spit, on her chest. Good god, why was he crying? Bringing her hand to his cheek, she wiped them away with a shaking hand and attempted to sit up. What had she done?! Did he regret it? Did he have another flashback? She instantly felt horrible, the afterglow vanishing quickly.

"Erik? What's wrong?" she asked timidly, her voice quaking. He raised his head from its pillow to gaze up at her. His previously desire darkened eyes were now liquid clear, reflecting the green blue of his irises in his tears. But a smile broke upon his face, a sweet, slow and lingering thing that echoed a contented sadness. He reached up and ran his fingers over her lips.

"Nothing, dearest. I just…I never believed I would be where I just was. Listening to your heartbeat after sharing love…" his voice whispered off before he leaned up to kiss her softly. "In another life, I never thought someone could hold me in the way you have. I am merely stunned by you, _ma cher."_

Wren considered his words carefully and found her heart aching for the man between her legs who had just given her the best orgasm of her life. Unable not to, she brought him close and kissed him with closed lips. All she could feel for him was empathy, compassion and love. She tried her hardest to pour all of herself into a deep kiss. Erik accepted it with severity for what she was trying to say, pressing back just enough and running his hand over her hair.

"You…you are stunning," Wren murmured back after relinquishing the kiss. "I have never felt so content and comfortable. I'm not scared at all."

Erik hummed a satisfied, happy sound before burying his nose by her hair. Her hands went back to stroking his brown, thrashed hair over his head. For a while, they lay there again, quiet and warm. Somehow their breathing tuned in and they breathed in an alternating pattern, hearts pounding to one another. The feel of skin against skin and body warmth being shared was exquisite.

As the morning wore on, the apartment wore on slowly and grew warm. Too comfortable to move, the two stayed put and eventually drifted off, collapsed in an impassioned heap amongst the tangled blankets.


	9. Chapter 9

The sensation of soft kisses awoke Erik from his heavy, blissful sleep. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was but it didn't matter. Shifting under the gentle pressure of lips traveling down his chest, he groggily opened his eyes. Blinking to see through the fog of drowsiness, he felt a hand run up his upper thigh tenderly. The soft orange-grey light from the dying day outside infiltrated his vision and made the air seem heavy.

Straddling his legs was a still nude Wren, her hair a glorious auburn mess about the pale skin of her shoulders. Softly and wetly, she placed kisses along his ribs and belly, her lips traveling ever downward. Still lustful eyes simmered at him from her ministrations and she smiled a bit wickedly upon noticing that he was awake.

Wren seemed an entirely different creature in bed to him than the shy woman he had come to adore. Wild, ravenous and confident, she was like a dying ember that had finally been fed fuel and now burned brightly. He found that he enjoyed this side of her as well, especially with that dark, feral gleam that seemed to have found its way into her smile now.

Erik suddenly and painfully became aware that he was completely rigid again and probably had been while asleep. Apparently, his bedmate knew that interesting fact as well. The bare skin of her bottom came to a rest against his shins as she shifted closer to his hard cock, breath teasing the skin. He felt a groan bubble up in his chest as a firm, teasing palm pressed his length against his own stomach and rolled. Wren laughed breathily before grasping him firmly, her fingers sliding up and down smoothly.

"Good morning," Wren murmured heatedly before placing another kiss on the rise of his hipbone. Erik couldn't find the voice to respond besides a sleepy smile and sigh. Lacing his fingers into her hair, he threaded them through as desire's fire built back up within his belly. It seemed to grow so quickly and he wondered if it would always be so with this fiery woman.

This moment, here in the twilight of a day spent on passion, felt like perfection. Bliss and warmth filled his soul along with a joyous contentment that felt like it would break him. Contemplating this, Erik watched in what seemed like slow motion as his lover gently placed a kiss to the head of his penis. He froze, his heart suddenly thundering and now wide awake at the promise she seemed to offer.

Wet, eager lips pressed to the silky tip again, followed by a teasing swipe of tongue. The hot sensation made his hips buck without control. Luckily, Wren backed up enough with a chuckle. Slowly but surely, she held him still and ran the flat of her tongue along his hard cock, from bottom to top. Erik moaned lowly. He could not hold it in as a tormenting tongue swirled into the slit, licking up the precome that arose.

Wren gained more confidence at his sounds and took the head of him fully into her mouth. Suckling gently, she rolled her tongue about the hot skin and tugged his shaft slowly. The man under her sighed and growled at her attentions, his hands delved into her hair and holding on tenderly. The length in her grasp throbbed, calling out for more.

Looking up, Wren found Erik's clouded, gleaming eyes watching her intently, his tempting mouth opened for desperate, shallow breaths. A flush had crept along his cheeks and his brown hair fell messily about his face. Warmth pooled inside her at the sight of him so helpless and so wanting her touch. It made her feel powerful and urged her to please him in ways he never had been before.

With a broken moan, she quickly took in as much of his leaking cock into her mouth that she could and down her throat. Erik cried out at the intense sensation and lurched up a bit, trying not to thrust up into her wet heat. Pleased at his reaction, she suckled and dragged her tongue up the underside as she moved up. He was helpless to the onslaught of pleasure, gasping raggedly and twisting about in the sheets.

Keeping their gaze, she released him with a pop and licked up the length again, sighing in want as she did so. For poor Erik, watching a woman pleasure him in such a way, was exquisite torture and he had to restrain himself. Already his hips tried to match her as she sucked him back down, red hair falling in her face. With trembling hands, he brushed it together behind her head and held it there so that he could watch her as she loved him.

"_Ma cher_," the scarred man groaned roughly. Wren smiled as much as she could with her mouth busy before running a free hand up his firm stomach and chest. Under her fingers and against her tongue, she could feel his heart thunder in excitement. Lightly, she dragged her nails back down, scraping over a small brown-pink nipple as she sucked hard on the very tip of his cock.

"_Oh mon dieu s'il vous plait_!" Erik cried out hotly before grabbing ahold of her. Wren was a bit startled when he sat up and grasped her face, pulling her swiftly and shakily off of him. Licking her lips, she let him pull her up to eye level, his gaze just as hungry and feral. "I cannot wait for you anymore."

The growl sent shivers down her spine and goose pimples to fly over her flesh. Starving, rough lips collided as Erik grasped her bottom and pulled her closer to him. Wren gasped and moaned at feeling his slick, hard cock against her already soaked folds. Rocking teasingly against him, she broke their kiss to push on his shoulders. Guiding him to the blankets, she raised up on her knees over him, one hand grasping his length.

Panting breathlessly, they gazed upon one another as she guided him home, back arching at the stretching fulfilment. Erik moaned loudly as she sank upon him, impaling herself and gyrating into his hips. Tipping his head back and closing his eyes, the man clasped her hips and allowed her to take the lead. At first slow, Wren rode him, hands over his upon her waist. The feeling of him sliding inside of her and filling her so well was euphoric and made her wish she could stay there forever.

For a moment, she gazed upon him as he pressed his cheek against the pillow, tempting lips open and soft moans escaping him as she moved. The sight of his slightly damp forehead as it creased and his throat when he swallowed for air drew her affections. Kissing both softly, Wren nibbled the skin of his throat to gain more of his attention. Opening his eyes, her lover stared into her own as she rocked slowly upon him.

The pressure built as she leaned back and picked up speed, rising and falling as sweat began to shine on her skin. Erik watched the sight of her in motion, the slight wetness to her form as she moved. Earthquakes rocked through her breasts as they bounced, her back a symbol of lovely desire. Without thought, his large, warm hands came up and cupped her chest, thumbs flickering over hard nipples. Wren mewled at that and pressed him into the sheets, rocking back and forth with him plunged as deep as he could go.

That almost tipped him off the precarious edge that she held him on. Toes curled, he thrust upwards, feeling her clench about him in pleasure as her head fell forward.

"Erik! Erik…oh…god…Erik…" Wren chanted in a moan as she forced herself to continue moving. Sparks were flying in her vision, blotting out the flushed and lusting face of her lover. She needed to come; she needed him to first though. Leaning back, she propped herself with her arms, head hanging back and slid upon his length fast and hard.

The new angle sent pure bolts of ecstasy down their spines as they strained together towards an end. Erik ran a hand up Wren's belly to splay between her breasts then up to her throat. She cried out at the light, slightly possessive hold upon her and felt her insides light up in an explosion. Moaning his name loudly, she tossed her head at the intensity of her orgasm.

The pulsing, sucking, velvety insides of her brought Erik over the cliff of joy. Crying out just as loudly, he pushed as deep as he could, throbbing as he came violently. Time seemed to freeze for that moment with the two entwined in passion and flesh. Where they connected pulsed in synchronization as their lovemaking high slowed down.

Gasping for breath through a parched throat, Wren slumped a bit on her perch upon him, hair falling in wild disarray in her face. The gentle hand about her throat shifted to brush the strands out of the way. She found Erik in a similar state of complete undoing, sweaty and panting with a radiant smile on his mouth. Finding a grin come to her in return, she sighed and fell forward into his arms. The movement shifted his slowly softening member inside her and they both gasped a bit at the feeling.

Once again, a comfortable silence fell between them as they lay together, his strong arms wrapped about her possessively. It was quite a bit colder than before so Wren reached down and found blankets to pull over them. Burying her face into the crook of his neck, she placed little kisses and tastes, enjoying his shudders. One of his hands played circles over her back while the other cupped her head to him.

Erik cleared his throat a bit, startling her and grabbing her attention.

"Is this how I shall awake for now on, _ma cherie_?" he whispered in a wistful tease. Wren grinned a silly smile before snorting a laugh.

"If we are lucky, yes. Did…did you enjoy it?" she asked a bit warily. The grasp about her tightened and he chuckled at her. The sound of his low, golden and warm voice making that sound almost aroused her again. The way his amusement made him move inside her did not help matters either.

"Oh, yes, I did, _mon amour_. I had no idea that such a vulgar little mouth could do such wonderful work," Erik teased lovingly, his fingers shifting against her skull. Wren stifled a laugh at that and found a way to wind her arms under him. Clutching him tightly with all of her body and soul, she tried to let him know how she felt at that moment. She wanted him to feel the warmth and need in her heart for him. "Did you?"

"Did I…? Oh, oh, god, yes! You are amazing, Erik. I have never…well, before with…I just hadn't-" immediately, she remembered how many men she had been with before and shame flooded her and made her feel filthy. This scarred, beautiful man had given her all of what he had to offer, physically untainted and wholly hers. She could not say the same and they both knew it.

"It is all right, ma Wren. I understand," he reassured her soothingly, sensing her sudden distress and embarrassment. "Do not concern yourself with such things. _Je t'aime, mon amour_."

Even though his softly spoken words were in French, Wren knew what he had said somehow. Perhaps it was the simple yet profound way that he murmured into her hair or how he kissed there, but she understood and felt tears come to her eyes, hot and quiet. They were not angry tears or hurt tears. They were tears of amazement because she truly believed him and felt as if the swelling in her heart would burst and cause her to combust in a confetti storm of stars.

Lifting her head from his chest, Wren met his tranquil gaze. He seemed alarmed by her watery eyes so she smiled even though it ached her soul to do so. There was too much inside of what used to be an empty void and no words could explain her joy at not feeling it anymore. A fine tremor had started in her frame as she leaned down enough to kiss his scarred cheek, then his forehead, nose and finally his mouth. It was a short touch but it sent a wave of comfort through his being.

"I love you too, Erik. So very much."

A grin bloomed upon his handsome face and Erik reached up to grasp hers in his palms. Sitting up slightly and pulling her down, he pressed a long, languid kiss upon her mouth that seemed to sear some wound closed within them both. Surely, it grew humid and hot again, tongues tangling and sliding against the other. Wren moaned into his mouth when his reviving cock throbbed within her and he chuckled in a wicked way.

"Good, for I was not done making love to you yet, ma Wren."


End file.
